Heart of Darkness (part one of The Engifted series)
by smaugholmeswatson
Summary: A world where humans and beings known as Engifted (humans with incredible powers or mutations) live side by side. The day Sherlock learns that he is an Engifted his entire world abruptly changes when he finds himself thrown into the middle of an ancient fight between the forces of darkness and light, a fight he would rather not take part in.
1. Becoming an Engifted- Sherlock

The last strains of the clock in the living room striking midnight are just fading away when my eyes fly open and I sit bolt upright in bed, the covers tangled around me. For a moment I blink in confusion, trying to work out what has woken me up so violently. Almost in answer a jolt of agonising pain courses down my back and I have to grit my teeth against a cry. My breathing quickens as small painful judders shake my muscles and leave me feeling weak. As abruptly as it struck the pain fades but I know with a horrible feeling of inevitability that it will all too soon be back. I groan quietly and bury my aching head in my hands. My skin burns beneath my touch as my very body chemistry begins to change. This should not be happening! It can not be happening! By my calculation I have at least another three years before this happens. Apparently my calcalutions were more than a little off...which is technically impossible considering how I would never get something so important so wrong. So how on earth did I not see this coming?

The skin of my back begins to burn again and grows from a slight twinge to a white hot agony that leaves me gasping for breath. My head swims unpleasantly and for a moment I find myself wishing for the emptyness of sleep. Sadly, right now, sleep is a very long way away and all I can do is breath heavily, and try not to scream. Eventually, after what feels like hours, the pain fades away and leaves me drained and shaking. Gingerly I ease myself over to the edge of the bed and lower my feet to the floor. My entire body feels sensitive, my skin almost painful to the touch. Please let this be over soon because I really don't know how much more of this I can take. Already the pain is beginning to build again and the muscles in my back are tightening unpleasantly to the point of breaking. Gritting my teeth I swear quietly beneath my breath.

I am not prepared for this! Usually for an Engifted it takes months to pysch yourself up for the moment of your final transformation and I haven't even starting thinking about it yet. Another disadvantage I have is that Engifted going through this have their friends and families' by their sides to help them through what is an incredibly tramatic event... my brain is sent reeling by another wave of pain that is intense enough to make beads of sweat stand out on my forehead. With a shaking hand I reach up to wipe them away. As I do so my gaze falls on the phone sitting on my bedside table. Hmmm. now that's an idea... Sure it may be the middle of the night but there is at least a small chance that Mycroft might pick up. It can not hurt to try because I won't be any worse off if my brother does not pick up.

Steeling myself I reach out, half expecting a wave of agony to hit me from nowhere. To my relief nothing happens and I find myself beginning to relax a little. Big mistake. My fingers have just closed around the phone when the next wave of agony stikes. It is more intense than any of the previous waves of pain and I am barely able to contain a cry. Every bone and muscle in my back feels like it is stretching way beyond what the human body is cabable of until white hot pain is the only thing I am aware of. It is so bad that tears stream down my cheeks and drip onto my lap. When I look down the only colour I am able to see is red.

Wait. I touch my fingertips to my cheeks. They come away sticky with what I swear is blood. I curse loudly. The tranformation is almost complete...any second now the wings will appear and I will finally know what sort of person I really am. There is a brief moment of pain before I managed to force it back down. Once it has happened there is no going back. All I hope for is that I do no become a Blackwing. Everybody depises Blackwings. The skin of my back begins to prickle with a hundred tiny needles and I clench my fists in the bed clothes. Here it comes; the final moment...

The pain is twice as bad as what I was expecting, tearing through me like a tidal wave and threatening to drag me under. Through gritted teeth I force out tiny huffed breaths that are still not enough and I find the edges of my vision beginning to fade to black. Honestly passing out would actually be a blessing right now. Well, maybe not entirely because if I do pass out there is a very high chance John will walk in tomorrow morning all worried when I don't turn up for breakfast. I have not yet got round to telling John about the fact I'm a Engifted. Something I am now beginning to regret... DAMN IT! My vision blurs and there is nothing I can do to prevent the scream of pain that tears itself from my throat. At the same time with the nasty wet tearing sound of flesh and the cracking of bone something huge and heavy bursts from my back with a whooshing sound and a rush of air.

Abruptly, almost as though it was never there at all, the pain has gone completly and for a moment all I can is lie still, gulping in great breaths of air. Please, please let the worse of the transformation be over. I really do not think I can take any more. A few minutes tick past and nothing happens. I begin to relax slightly, the tension slowly draining out of my muscles as sleep tugs at my eyelids. But I can not sleep...not quite yet anyway. First I want to see what colour my wings are. For an Engifted the wings are everything; they are our identity and also give hints as to what your powers might be. The first glimpse of them is both exciting and faintly terrifying at the same time. Slowly, and a little hesistantly I have to admit, I raise my head and crane to see over my shoulder. The sight that greets my eyes makes my blood run cold. There, plain as anything, are two huge wings covered with delicate, lace like black feathers.

Not the outcome I was hoping for at all. I lay my head back down and bury it in my pillow. I do not want to have black wings. It is well known that black winged Engifted are those possesed with dangerous or destructive powers, those who often end up hurting the people around them...my heart skips a beat. God only knows how John is going to react to this. Not only will he find out I am an Engifted but also that I may end up putting him in hospital. I bite back a curse and glance at my wings again, hoping that in the several seconds since I last looked at them they might have changed colour. Sadly luck is not on my side today. A loud groan escapes me. Why can't life ever be simple? As I think this I hear loud footsteps approaching my room in a rush and I hold my breath, praying that John hasn't come to check on me. That last scream was certaintly loud enough to have woken him.

"Sherlock, what's going on? I thought I heard a cry of pain. Are you okay?" John's voice is muffled through the door but I am still able to hear the concern in his voice.

John can not see me like this! I just know he will freak out and shout at me. Desperatly I search for a way out of this. Obviously, since John is standing right in front of it, the door is out, which only leaves the window. Slowly I stand up, carefully tucking my wings against my back, and walk towards the window in question. Outside London is quiet and the street is empty of people, perfect for making a quick getaway. When I slide it open a blast of freezing air blows in and lightly ruffles my black feathers. A shiver runs down my spine in response and suddenly I find myself eager to be out there and trying out my wings for the first time. From behind me comes a loud bang and I jump. John has evidently grown tired of waiting for a reply and is trying to force his way in. If I am going to make a decision I need to do it now before it is too late. Gingerly I lean out of the window and assess my surroundings. There is no outside sill to stand on, I am going to have to simply go for it and pray I can get airborne before I break my legs when I hit the ground.

"SHERLOCK! OPEN THIS DOOR OR I SWEAR I WILL BREAK IT DOWN!" This is followed by several more loud bangs and the ominous sound of splintering wood.

Well, it's now or never. Taking a deep breath I squeese my way out feet first and let myself drop. At first the feeling of falling and the ground rapidly rushing up to meet me is terrifying and for a moment I actually question whether I have just made a horrible mistake. Then my wings open to their full extent, slowing my fall enough so I can get in one or two powerful down-wards thrusts that propel me into the air. I hope John does not think too badly about me over this (I am sure he will understand once I get a chance to explain everything to him properly) and believes that I had no choice. With a heavy sadness in my heart I look back once at 221B Baker Street before I vanish into the darkness of the night.

Halfway across London in his grand town house Mycroft Holmes is struggling to drift off to sleep, and it isn't because his head is spinning from everything that had happened during the day. Something has changed, something big-though he can't put his hand on exactly what he has sensed. On the stroke of midnight a cold chill that had nothing to do with his powers rippled through his skin and a painful twinge has momentarily flared up in his back, reminding Mycroft of the night he had transformed into the Engifted he was now. He toss and turns a few more times before he admits defeats and gets out of back. For a moment he stands there, his blue, crystaline wings stretched out behind him. Lost in thought he at first doesn't hear the light knock upon the window. Whoever is outside tries again, hammering their fist against the glass. Mycroft jumps, mutters to himself about Engifted who do not appreciate others sleeping patterns, and makes his way over to the window.

'Who the hell could that be this time of night'. He thinks to himself as he yanks the curtains open. Mycroft is surprised by the sight that greets his eyes. Instead of a strange Engifted delivering an impotant message or some such thing he instead finds himself face to face with his younger brother. He stares at the black wings keeping his brother airborne, hardly able to believe what he was seeing. His brother, though he could be arrogant and a little annoying at times, was simply too gentle and kind to have black wings. Mycroft sighs. How typical of his baby brother to make his life ever more complicated. Shaking his head he throws open the window and steps aside to allow Sherlock to fly in. "You have some explaining to do little brother."


	2. Where on earth is Sherlock Holmes?

When no reply comes from the Sherlock's room my concern goes from worried about his general health to oh my god he must be dying! What other reason can there be for Sherlock ignoring me? The cry of pain that had disturbed my sleep had been one of agony, so god only knows what must be happening in that room right at this moment. Sherlock is almost certaintly in no state to answer the door. With this in mind I take a step back and analyse the situation before me, trying to work out how best to break down the door without dislocating my shoulder. I also need to be prepared to fight. Sherlock might not be alone in there. Several more seconds of deliberation pass before I finally take a deep breath and bring my foot crashing down onto the wood below the handle. With a splintering crash the door flys open with enough force for it to rebound off the wall, almost hitting me in the face. I allow myself a ruthful smile at my stupidity as I throw out a hand to stop it. Breathing heavily I rush inside, not entirely sure what I am expecting. An empty room wasn't it.

I freeze and stare around the room in shock. There is blood everywhere; the ceiling, the walls, the bedsheets...it's like something out of a horror movie. The room is also freezing cold and it takes me a while to notice the window is wide open. Curious I hurry over and cautiously peer out towards the street. Nothing to see, but as I pull back inside I notice a scattering of black feathers on the floor. Bending down I pick up a few of them and am surprised by how soft they are. As well the feather is blacker than anything I have ever seen, almost as though it is absorbing light like a mini black hole. What the hell happened here? Confused I allow the feathers to slip between my fingers and slump back against the wall. I take a few deep breaths to calm myself. Judging from the clues left behind I can almost definatly say Sherlock has been kidnapped and is probably in a bad way if the blood is anything to go by. With aa heavy sigh I pick up one of the black feathers again and examine it closely, wondering what type of kidnapper would leave such a symbol behind. Flowers are quite popular and there one case I worked on with Sherlock where the guy was leaving behind origami black lotus' but I have never heard of feathers being left at a crime scene...my stomach gives an odd lurch at that thought. I never thought I would be this side of events. I am way out of my depth. I am going to need help, serious help, like Greg and the rest of the metropolitan police help. With a heavy heart I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone, hastily speed dialling a familiar number. Hopefully it won't be long before Greg arrives.

In the end it only takes Greg about fifteen minutes to arrive and I strongly suspect he broke several speed limits on his way here. "Thanks so much for coming Greg." I say from where I am hovering in the doorway and watching Greg and his team hard at work. "I didn't know who else to call." Behind me I am vaguely aware of Mrs Hudson standing a little further down the corridor, a worried look on her face as she hands out cups of tea to the policeman who are searching the rest of the flat for clues.

Greg briefly glances up from where he is examining the closest blood splatter and gives me a smile. "Sherlock has done so much for me over the years. Of course I had to come John when I heard what had happened." His voice trails off when his gaze falls upon the feathers by the window. His brows furrow and he picks one up, examining it closely. "John, tell me again exactly what happened here." Greg asks, looking up at me with a serious expression on his face. He looks troubled, as though he knows the meaning behind the feathers left behind. I feel my hands begin to shake and squeese my eyes shut, unable to look at the blood any longer. "John?" Greg prompts.

Swallowing hard I take a moment to compose myself. I am still a little in shock at finding myself on the other side of an investigation. Now I know how friends and family of victims feel... It is not an experience I want to repeat. Once I am sure my voice will not shake when I speak I clear my throat and explain again to Greg about the scream I had heard and the terrible silence that had followed it. Outside the sky is still dark and the majority of London is still sleeping. "I heard a scream of agony that woke me up. Naturally I rushed downstairs and tried to gain access to the room by breaking the door down. When I got inside this was what I was greeted with." I finish, gesturing towards the room and the blood splatters. The shaking in my hands has grown worse and I clench them into fists into try and stop it. It doesn't do any good because apparently Greg has noticed my distress. Standing he makes his way over to me but I wave him away and turn my attention to Mrs Hudson.

"Come on dear, a cup of tea and a sit down will do you good." Mrs Hudson says, placing a gentle hand on my arm and leading me away down the corridor. Policemen move to let us pass and give me sympathetic looks I try to ignore. Maybe she's right and a sit down will do moe good.

Lestrade watched John go with a melancholy expression before he headed back over to the window and kneels beside Anderson, who did not even bother to acknowledge his presence. Hmm rather rude, but then that was not out of character for the forensic scientist. He was often a little stand offish, especially at two in the morning when he would rather be sleeping. Lestrade stared at the blood splatter, his eyes burning with tiredness until he was forced to rub a hand across them, and cursed beneath his breath. The feathers could only mean one thing...an Engifted was involved in this crime. It would be an absolute nightmare trying to work out who exactly was behind the abduction (Lestrade's current theory as to what had happened). There were many, many Engifted in the world and there were at least several hundred currently living in the city of London. To top that off Black wings were the most unapproachable of Engifted and to anger one was basically the same as personally signing your own death warrent. Lestrade felt an icy shiver run down his spine. Dear god let Sherlock be okay. To take his mind off negative thoughts he turned to Anderson and leant in close. "So,what's the verdict so far?" Any idea on who the feathers might belong to?"

Anderson snorted loudly. "Isn't that more your area sir?" He replied sarcastically. "After all not all of us can be detectives." Carefully he scrapped up some of the blood and dropped it into a tube, screwing the lid on tightly. He also collected one of the feathers and held it up close to his eyes. As well as being black when you looked at it closely you could see the fine delicate edges of the feather. He started slightly when Lestrade cleared his throat and glared up at him. After a moment he relented with a sigh. "Sorry, I haven't been getting much sleep lately. In response to your question about the feather I won't know until I've got one back to the lab to analyse it. Even then it could take several days to work out the Engifted's identity."

Lestrade shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, causing it to stand on end. "Sherlock might not have several days." He said in a quiet voice. Aside from Anderson's shoulders tensing he should no other signs of caring. "Just got the tests done as quickly as you can. We owe John that much at least." He said, his voice gentle.

Anderson rolled his eyes and was about to retort when he saw the look on Lestrade's face. Pausing he quickly collected up his sample and headed towards the door, the rest of the forensic team following close behind him. He glanced over his shoulder. "I'll phone you as soon as I get any results." He said before continuing to walk away through 221B. As he headed through the living room he nodded at John curled up in Sherlock's black armchair and received a sad smile in return. Sure the detective might be irritating sometimes but he had no argument against John. For John Watson he would make the DNA tests his number one priority.

Even once he had heard the front door slam shut Lestrade continued to kneel on the floor and stare numbly at the blood splatter nearest him. Something violent had happened here judging by the amount of blood and he couldn't help but be concerned that something terrible had happened to Sherlock. Over the years he had worked alongside him he had grown fond of the consulting detective and even had come to consider him a friend. With a heavy sigh Lestrade straightened up and turned to stare out of the window. Somewhere out there in London's vastness was Sherlock; alone and probably injured... he was disturbed from his thoughts by one of his officers asking whether there was anything they could do. Lestrade jumped and spun round. "Put out a city wide search for Sherlock Holmes amongst both the human and the Engifted communities. If he's out there I want him found." He ordered before giving other people orders to search Sherlock's usual haunts. He would make sure that no stone was left unturned. Quickly the officers hurried to do as they were bid.

Once the officers were gone a jarring silence fell over the flat. Even the sounds of Mrs Hudson clattering with her tea tray were gone, goodness only knew where she had got to, and John was conpicuous by his absence. It made Lestrade feel a little lonely. Carefully, making sure to avoid the piles of books and sciencetific equipment scattered everywhere, he made his way through the kitchen and into the living area. Frankly it was miracle John put up living in this mess and god only knew how Sherlock managed to find anything halfway useful. Even the kitchen was full of random stuff, including several human fingers that Lestrade didn't want to know how they had got there or where they had come from.

In the end it didn't take him long to find John who was curled up in Sherlock's armchair and staring at the long black coat hung over the back of the door. A wave of sadness swept through Lestrade but he quickly shoved it aside. He knew John well enough to know that he didn't like other people feeling sorry for him. Poor John. He still hadn't totally recovered from Sherlock faking his suicide and simply disappearing for two years. Across the room the clock on the mantlepiece struck three. Lestrade groaned loudly and sank down into the chair opposite John. John turned to him with glazed eye but appeared not to really notice him. Lestrade meanwhile stifled a yawn. It was way too early (or late depending on your viewpoint) to be at a crime scene. Why couldn't criminals keep more sociable hours? He rubbed at his eyes and laid his head back on the soft, comfortable fabric of the chair. He already felt hopelessly out of his depth. Until he got the results of the DNA tests there was nothing he could really do.

Lestrade's eyes grew heavy. The chair was very comfortable and it would be at least an hour before Anderson phoned...He was on the verge of drifting off to sleep whe he was abruptly awoken by a shrill ringing sound. In his drowsy state it took him a while to work out his phone was ringing and it was several seconds before he could fish it from his pocket. "Hello, Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade speaking." He said, stifling another yawn. From the other end of the line came no reply, though Lestrade was able to hear faint shouting. Shaking the sleep away he sat up a little straighter. "Hello? Is anybody there?"

Greg! It's Mycroft!" The connection was a bad one and Lestrade could barely hear what Mycroft was saying. The volume also kept fading in and out.

Lestrade frowned and glanced over at John who was showing a little more interest in what was going on around him. He was watching Lestrade with some curiosity anyway and definatly perked up when he heard Mycroft's name. "To what do I owe this pleasure Mycroft? You do realise it's three in the morning right?" He asked, surprised to be hearing from the eldest Holmes Brother.

I'm sorry if I'm disturbing you Greg, but I need your help. How soon can you get to my house?" Usually for him Mycroft sounded harried and distracte, not at all like his usual calm, collected self. In the background the shouting was still audible and was occasionally punctuated by a worrying sounding screaming. "Please Greg! I don't know how much longer I can keep holding them off." He continued, a pleading tone in his voice that sent Lestrade reeling.

"Hold who off?" Lestrade demanded, half rising from his seat. Across the room John sat up and fixed Lestrade with a hard look. What the hell could Mycroft want at this time of night, he wondered. "Mycroft what the hell is going on?!" He half shouted, his voice taking on a panicked edge. He had a bad feeling about this and he felt a jolt when the connection grew so bad he feared he had lost him. "Mycroft? MYCROFT!" He was now out of his chair and anxiously pacing from side to side. What the hell was going on today? First Sherlock disappearing and now Mycroft phoning up and asking for help? The world had been turned on its head and Lestrade didn't know how to cope with it.

There was a long pause before Mycroft replied and Lestrade began to grow seriously concerned something had happened to him. Finally, though faint, he received an answer to his frantic questioning. "No time to explain Greg. Just get here as quick- HEY! YOU! NIGHTMARE! GET AWAY FROM MY BROTHER!" Mycroft suddenly bellowed loud enough to make Lestrade jump and let out a small shocked yelp. This was followed by a loud crash and the phone abruptly going dead.

Lestrade stared at the phone in shock for a long moment before shoving it back into his pocket. He was already running for the door. He, like everyone in the Metropolitan Police, had heard of Nightmare and knew all too well of his reputation. Vicious, cruel and utterly without mercy; he was one Engifted who was truely feared and hated by his own kind as well as humans. You did not want to meet Nightmare on a dark night (or anywhere at all really). He swore beneath his breath. Even at this time of the morning it would still take at least twenty minutes to make it across London to Mycroft's house and by the sound of that phone call twenty minutes would be too long.

Greg, what's going on?" John shouted from behind him, rising from his chair and reaching for his jacket. "Do you news about Sherlock?" He doesn't pause to let Lestrade speak and instead just carries on talking. "I have to come with you. You can't leave me behind!" He is babbling and his words are tumbling over themselves in his haste to get them out.

Lestrade winced. He had no idea how to answer John's questions, he wasn't even sure how much he knew about about the Engifted. But then on the other hand he couldn't outright lie either because John would be able to pick up on it (when you've been around Sherlock long enough to tend to pick up a few of his tricks) and anyway Lestrade felt the poor guy had already been through enough because of Sherlock. Telling him about the phone call couldn't hurt. Still he took a few sceonds to compose himself before he answered. "Mycroft just called to ask for my help, it sounded urgent. I don't know if Sherlock was there." A small lie wouldn't do any damage. Still, of course, John would insist on going with him...not that Lestrade disliked John's company (in fact they got on very well) but he wasn't sure what scene would greet their eyes when they reached the house. Predictably John is already pulling on his jacket and heading towards the door. "I don't know if you should come with me John. It could be dangerous." Lestrade replied, following John out of the door and locking it shut behind him. "From what I could hear it sounded kinda bad."

With his lips drawn back in the human equivilant of a snarl John rounded on Lestrade, his eyes flashing with anger, and grabbed his arm in an iron grip that made Lestrade wince. "Don't you dare tell me what I can and can not do." He hissed, ignoring Lestrade's protests. "I served as an army doctor in the Middle East, Greg. I have gone up against Engifted, hell I served side by side with many of them. I have almost been killed in a bomb blast and I've lost count of the times I have been in danger since I teamed up with Sherlock. I am coming with you and there is nothing you can do to stop me." With this final, pratically shouted utterance he released Lestrade and stormed down the stairs, his footsteps echoing loudly in the empty stairwell.

Lestrade groaned and followed, lagging behind a little so he could think and compose his thoughts. Well, that probably could have gone better. Down below the front door to 221B crashed open with a deafening bang, accompanied by some choice swear words from John. He would have to apologise to him later when everything was better. He hesitated for a second longer and then headed outside to where his patrol car was parked by the curb. John was waiting beside it, looking impatient and more than a little pissed off. Unlocking it and climbing in he started the engine and fired up the siren. Before he drove away he glanced over at John to find him pratically vibrating with all the nerves he was trying to keep at bay. "John, I'm sure Sherlock's fine. He's proven before he can look after himself." He didn't really expect to get a reply and therefore wasn't overly surprised when one wasn't forthcoming. Lestrade gnawed anxiously at his lip. Dear god, please don't let them be too late.

Lestrade and John arrived at Mycroft's house ten minutes later (Lestrade may have broken more than a few traffic laws) to find a scene of absolute and total chaos. The car screeched to a halt, both of them leaping out and running towards what was once a chain of terraced houses. Now the stone frontages were streaked with ash and pockmarked with huge, nasty looking gashes that still oozed smoke. Several of the houses were gone completly, leaving behind nothing but a gaping hole that stood out in the usually pristine neighbourhood. Up above, obscuring the orange drenched night sky, ominous clouds loom, streaks of lightning occasionally illuminating what was rest of the street. One flash of searing light briefly lit up the dark silhouette of a roughly humanoid figure and the vast pair of wings stretching out behind them. John stared, shocked by what he was seeing. He had only seen Engifted before on battlefields and never before out in the normal world.

Lestrade cursed and started running forward. He recognised those wings and knew he had to somehow make himself heard above all the noise of crashing thunder and howling wind. Breathing in deeply he let rip. "MYCROFT!" He bellowed. He could have sworn he saw one of the Engifted, the one lit up briefly by the lightning, pause for a second and glance in his direction. Lestrade didn't know what else he could do. Humans had no chance against Engifted, they would probably end up getting torn to peices. Before Lestrade could take another step forward an invisible force blasted him off his fee. He hit the road hard and went skidding backwards for several feet before he collided with a streetlamp and came to an abrupt halt.

"Lestrade!" John hurried to Lestrade's side and instantly began checking him over for injuries. Thankfully he seemed to be unharmed, just a little winded. "What the hell was that?"

Lestrade went to tell John that he had bloody clue but he could safetly assume it was an Engifted when a dark chuckle came from above them. Both of them flinched and looked around for the source of the noise. "Don't worry little humans, he just ran into one of my forcefields. Though technically it is his fault. He should not have tried to interfere in our fight." The voice was so loud it seemed to shake the very air itself and even the ground shook when the Engifted landed, his constantly rippling, almost invisible wings spread out behind him. Lestrade recognised him at once, it was the un-nerving grey eyes and the scarred face that gave it away. "You humans are always so annoying." The Engifted taunted, a smirk spreading across his face when John stepped in front of Lestrade and crossed his arms, glaring up at the creature hovering above them. "You're awfully brave for something so breakable little human." Up above them, still illuminated by dramatic flashes of lightning the fighting continued. There was a flash of brilliant blue light and ice creeps down the outside of one of the houses, steaming slightly in the warm night air. The Engifted glanced over in its direction and muttered beneath his breath. "Lucky for you humans I have no time to deal with you right now." He said, stretching out his wings in preparation for take off. Before he could even lift them the Engifted is struck by a stream of ice. The Engifted threw back his head and screamed as ice spread across his chest, effectively trapping his arms against his sides. "Stay out of this Iceman. This is none of your business." The Engifted forced out between gritted teeth.

"You attacked my friends Shockwave! Of course it's my bloody business!" The second Engifted growled, hovering in the air surrounded by a cloud of freezing cold air. John did a double take, unable to believe his eyes. Could that really be...no it was impossible. There was no way that could be Mycroft. Because if Mycroft was an Engifted then that meant...no, he couldn't even think about it right now.

The first Engifted, or as John now knew, Shockwave, laughed, despite the ice creeping down his legs and slowly inching up his neck. But even as John watched chunks of ice began to flake away as the air around Shockwave and his very body vibrated faster than the air could see. "Look at you getting all protective over humans Iceman. It's sort of sweet in a pathetic way." Without warning his expression darkened. "This would be so much easier if you would just give us what we want. No one would need to get hurt and this could all be over." Shockwave snarled, finally breaking free of the ice on his arms with an explosive blast.

In response Mycroft bared his teeth, the temperature of the air noticebly dropping at the same time. "You and I both know that is not going to happen. My little brother is not a commodity you can just take. He is an Engifted with his own free will." He retorted, staring Shockwave in the eye. John meanwhile started, his heart beating wildly. Sherlock was an Engifted...Sherlock wasn't human...Sherlock had never told him. Why hadn't he told him? They were friends right? And friends told each other secrets. John felt hurt Sherlock hadn't felt able to confide in him. He was distracted from his thoughts by a roar from Shockwave.

The Engifted now looked murderous, his eyes had even turned a deep, evil scarlet. "Oh really Iceman, how exactly do you plan to stop me?" He gloated. "There is nothing to stop me destroying you and your little human pets and taking Sherlock by force." Holding out his hands palm up Shockwave concentrated on drawing his power in preparation to break the fragile things before him. Mycroft tensed and hastily threw up an ice shield. It wouldn't hold for long and in reality he was only prolonging the inevitable. Still, he had to try though. The force Shockwave could throw out was powerful enough to tear through solid steel- it would have difficulty with fragile bodies made of bone and flesh. Shockwave began to glow a bright white which grew to almost unbearable levels before he finally unleashed a destructive wave of energy. Mycroft screwed his eyes shut. This was going to hurt.

Several seconds passed and when the pain Mycroft was expecting didn't come he cautiously opened his eyes. Shockwave was on his knees coughing up mouthfuls of scarlet blood that left him unable to breath. The Engifted clawed at his throat, making terrible, frantic gasping noises. Mycroft frowned, unable to understand what was happening. Slowly he searched their surroundings. It didn't take long for his gaze to settle on his little brother. A gasp escaped him. With his black wings fully open Sherlock looked truly demonic and even his face was twisted in a dark expression of anger. Mycroft shook his head, unable to believe what he was seeing. This wasn't like his little brother at all. Taking a shaky breath he took a step forward away from the protection of his ice shield. "SHERLOCK! Stop! You're going to kill him." He cried, pleading and begging with the one person he thought he knew so well. The surrounding air was crackling and vibrating in response to the incredible power flowing off Sherlock in great waves. Mycroft felt a shiver of unease run down his spine. So it really was true then...there was no such thing as a nice Blackwing.

A nasty smirk spread across Sherlock's face, twisting his expression further. "Why that is the point of this endeavour Brother mine. He did try to kill you after all." Sherlock said in reply, his voice devoid of any emotion. Behind him his black feathers rippled in the slight breeze drifting through the air. Holding out a hand tipped with long curved claws he made a tight fist. Shockwave let out a high pitched screech of agony and went limp, collasping lifeless into a pool of his own blood. His chest didn't move and Mycroft realised with a jolt of horror that he wasn't breathing. Both Lestrade and John have gone totally white and looked in absolute shock at what the person who they thought was their friends had just done. Trying not to be obvious about it Mycroft moved so he was in between Sherlock and the two humans cowering on the ground. Right now there was no way in hell he was taking any chances. Then without any warning and for no apparent reason Sherlock could work out the world, and everything in it, simply stopped.


	3. Enter Chronos- Sherlock

I blink, unable to make sense of what is going on. One moment I was using my powers against Shockwave and the next everything from the people to the wind in the trees has frozen. Frozen also is the incredible wave of power that had welled up inside me when I saw Shockwave going after John and Mycroft. Sure I can still feel it, a burning hot sensation in my stomach but I am unable to touch it, to use it. I feel oddly naked without it. The only thing left to me is my wings and even they aren't half as threatening as they were without my powers. Tucking back my wings I land on the ground, not even making a single sound or kicking up a cloud of dust. A cold shiver runs down my spine. There is something unnatural feeling about this whole situation and I do not like it. My sense of panic only increases when I glance over at my friends to find them also frozen, their eyes staring straight ahead with expressions of horror. I rush over to them and slowly pace around them for a circle, searching for any signs of life. Though they do not blink or notice I am there, their chests move faintly with every breath they take. I breath a small sigh of relief, grateful that, for now at least, my friends appear to be unharmed.

Reaching out I lightly place a hand on John's shoulder and gaze into his eyes. As well as horror I can see a tiny spark of fear; two emotions I never thought I would see when he looked at me. I swallow hard and stumble back, my breath catching in my throat. Even after everything we have been through so far I do not know if our friendship can survive this latest blow, if John will ever be able to look me in the eye again without seeing a monster with black wings. My knees tremble slightly and it takes some effort to stop myself from crumpling to the ground. I have to remain strong if I am to get through this with my sanity intact. Without John by my side my powers and my strength will be all I have to protect me from this dangerous new world I am now a part of. Slowly I open my eyes. The world around me is still frozen. I shake my head, unable to work out what might have happened. Yes, it is a little disconcerting to not know what is going on. Usually I can at least work out a vague idea from my observations. Here though there is nothing that could be of any help. The only thing I am certain about is that whatever Engifted did this must be incredibly powerful to have frozen time so completely... A deep voice cuts across my train of thought. A snarl escapes me as I instinctively crouch and stretch out my wings in preparation for flight.

"Now, now Mr Holmes. There's no need for that. I am not here to cause any harm to you or your friends.." There is a hint of friendliness to the voice but I still remain poised for a fight just in case this turns out to be another enemy. "I apologise if I have startled you Mr Holmes. I could see no other way to communicate with you without getting drawn into the fight. We are not supposed to get involved with such things you see. Our purpose is to merely observe the world without altering how it functions." I look around but am unable to find the owner of the voice...though maybe...no, they aren't above me either. I can't help but feel a little annoyed. After freezing time they could at least have the manners to meet me face to face. Unperturbed the voice continues talking, "But for one such as you Mr Holmes, with your powers, Celeste is prepared to make an exception."

A shiver runs down my spine at the mention of that name. Celeste isn't supposed to exist, a fairy tale told to young Engifted to make them feel better about what is going to happen to them. To think that she might actually exist- why it's like finding out that dragons and unicorns are real and living amongst us! I take a deep breath in an attempt to slow my pounding heart and try to force myself to relax. I have to at least give whoever this is the benefit of the doubt before I jump to conclusions after all. "Sorry, but who are exactly?" I ask, moving so I am in front of Lestrade and John and can easily protect them if the need should arise. This Engifted (there is nothing else in this world with the power to freeze time after all) is scarily powerful and I have never heard of anyone having abilities like these. I start when there is a quiet laugh from off to my left and I spin round to confront my fellow Engifted. When I see him my mouth falls open and a quiet gasp escapes me to my great embarrassment.

This Engifted is like no other I have seen. Instead of feathers his wings are made up of thousands of tiny pieces of moving clockwork grinding and whirring away every time the Engifted moves. There is also, almost too faint to be heard, the constant unending sound of a clock ticking. Without conscious thought I find myself taking a step back away from him, unable to look at the transparent glass skin and spinning cogs without my stomach giving an unpleasant lurch. I did not know that this was even capable. I thought that when you became an Engifted you gained a pair of wings and a unique set of powers... This guy though is actually living, breathing clockwork. "I know I look a little alarming Mr Holmes but you have no need to fear me." He reassures me, his bright golden eyes sparkling from a carved, mask like face as he bows his head. "My name is Chronos."

Even though it is incredibly rude and Mycroft has frequently picked me up on the habit I can do nothing but stare at the Engifted, my brain unable to comprehend what I am seeing. Just as with Celeste there are tales told about Chronos, the living embodiment of time itself but once again they are nothing but bedtime stories. I swallow hard. He looks rather solid for a bedtime story though and I think, impossible though it may be, that Chronos is real...god only knows what this means about the rest of the tales I have heard about the world of the Engifted. It also bring into question some of the human stories as well. Who knows, maybe the Loch Ness Monster really does exist after all.

Chronos smiles gently. "Don't worry, I can understand how you are feeling right now. You are still new to this world after all." He pauses and glances down at the broken remains of Shockwave. His expression turns grim. "Mr Holmes, what do you know about the Elite Engifted?"

I continue to stare at him for a moment longer before I shake myself and finally answer his question. "I know you're supposed to be mythical..." Chronos looks amused to hear this but does not interrupt me. Eventually he is expecting to hear more than this but I have no idea what to say. Instead I decide to ask a question of my own. "What could you possibly want with me? I'm nothing." Deep down however I am not so sure about this. Maybe he is here because of my black wings. A shiver runs down my spine at this thought and I swallow hard. Hopefully it is not about that.

Chronos regards me thoughtfully, his golden eyes pulsing in time with the quiet ticking emanating from him. "Nothing? Mr Holmes when you gained your wings a ripple travelled through the fabric of our world that was strong enough for Celeste to sense. Naturally she was curious to find out what manner of Engifted you were and sent me out to find you. He says, his voice perfectly calm.

I meanwhile am struggling with all this. Celeste, the most powerful Engifted in all existence, wants to meet me?! It seems impossible, little more than a fantasy and I find myself growing suspicious. Usually, in my experience, if something seems too good to be true then it probably is. I can feel the beginnings of a nasty headache coming on. Somehow I force myself to meet Chronos' golden eyes. "Sorry if I'm missing something here but I still don't understand what makes me so important. Surely every Engifted gaining their powers alters the fabric of the world in some small way?" Even now, ten years on, I can remember Mycroft's transformation and the ripple of cold that had awoken me in the middle of the night. Of course other Engifted would have been aware of me joining their world- though no one actually knew why it happened in the first place.

Chronos looks disappointed at my ignorance and sighs heavily. "Many people think it must be great to be able to see the past, the present and the future but there are times when it can be a burden. While it is true every Engifted affects the world in some small way I have seen what you will become. Believe me when I say it is truly spectacular..." He pauses and glances down at Shockwave. An expression of sadness settles over his face then and his golden eyes darken slightly. "Of course there is still much ahead of you before you realise your full potential with many paths for you to tread..." He smiles but there is something behind it, a great sadness that I want to know the cause of. "Apologies Mr Holmes, I can get rather caught up in the future sometimes." The golden eyes clear and he holds out a hand towards me as though he intends for me to take it. "Come, it is time we were heading off. Celeste will be wondering what is taking me so long."

For a moment I am torn by indecision. What should I do? Go with Chronos and potentially find out more about my powers and or stay here and risk hurting my friends... Well there is not really much of a choice. It is pretty obvious what I should do. From the corner of my eye I can just about make out Shockwave's body and a wave of sickness crashes over me. I need to get control over my powers. There is always the chance I might accidentally lash out at Greg or (god forbid if this ever happened) John. No. I can not allow that to happen. Despite my misgivings I can not help but feel guilty at running off and leaving my friends with no idea of where I have gone. Especially after the events at St Bart's Hospital. I think John might actually kill me if I repeated that little stunt. "Can I at least tell me friends, my brother, what is going on?" I ask, glancing over at Greg and John who are still frozen to the spot. My heart sinks a little when Chronos shakes his head. Shaking my head I try to push my emotions away (they have an nasty habit of getting in the way after all) but apparently on this occasion they simply will not be suppressed. A wave of sorrow threatens to overcome me."

"I'm sorry Mr Holmes but that is out of the question. As I said before we Elite are not supposed to meddle in the affairs of the human world and as a result there is no need for anyone but you to know of our existence." Chronos replies with sympathy in his golden eyes. "Still you won't be gone for long and I can easily return you to this exact moment of time once the meeting is over. Your friends will have no idea you were ever gone." He says, obviously intending to reassure me.

Still I can not help but hesitate for a second. Last time I left London it was a whole two years before I returned. Even now I sometimes see a haunted look behind John's eyes when he thinks I am not looking at him. Still... biting my lip I run a hand over the edge of one black wing, feeling the soft feathers beneath my fingers. After what I did to Shockwave it is highly doubtful John will ever be able to look me in the face again. Really I have nothing to loose. Slowly I raise my eyes to Chronos and reach for his hand.

Chronos smiles at me and grips my hand tightly. "This is always a little disorientating the first time." He says. When he does not elaborate further I find myself worrying about what he could mean. Before I can ask him however the clockwork making up his wings and whirring gently beneath his skin steps up a gear and begins to glow the same gold colour as his eyes. Then, raising one hand, he clicks his fingers with a loud snap and everything dissolves into blackness.

It only takes a few seconds for the darkness to lift and when it does I find myself faced with a brilliant starry landscape that stretches as far as the eye can see in every direction. Ahead of us, probably about five minutes walk away, is a swirl of gleaming pink and blue cloud that sparkles brightly with a rainbow of colour. It is much larger than in the stories Mycroft told me about the Celestial Plains, the passageway between the human world and the secret world of the Elite Engifted. Once again, similar to the Elite's themselves, it is supposed to be nothing but a legend. Yet here it is in all it's glory...unless of course I am somehow dreaming this whole thing...Impossible, this feels too real to be a dream. It has to be real. I start when a streak of garish scarlet lightning shatters about the glowing clouds and tears apart the stars to reveal a ominous looking darkness beyond. Around us the landscape changes and twists as the stars begin to blink out and are consumed by the darkness. "Chronos, what's going on?" I ask. This was not in any of the stories so I can probably safely assume that this is not good.

In answer Chronos grabs my arm and begins to run, disturbing great cloud of multi-coloured dust from the ground by our feet. "If we can reach the others we'll be fine." Okay, that's all well and good but it hardly answers my original question. Ahead of us a single point of light continues to burn. From behind there comes a powerful blast of wind that seems to be trying to suck us backwards to whatever horror has invaded this place.

At the same time a loud shriek rings out from behind us, high pitched and inhuman, and echoes in the empty landscape. I almost glance over my shoulder but stop myself at the last second. I do not think I want to see the thing that made that noise face to face. It is not any creature I recognise from my world. With a jolt I realise Chronos is just as alarmed by the sound as I am and his golden eyes are wide with fright. Somehow I suspect he knows exactly what manner of creature that is. Unable to fight the temptation any longer I go to glance over my shoulder.

Chronos tightens his grip on my arm. "No! Don't look! That's exactly what he wants you to do." There is a faint note of panic in Chronos` voice. Without warning a faint golden glow pulses around us and we are teleported several metres ahead of where we were minutes before.

I reel from the sudden shift and stumble, my fall only prevented by the hand on my arm. Even after teleporting us Chronos power continues to glow around us and I feel my power reach out in response. Though it takes an extraordinary effort I force it back down again. I am not ready to face it again just yet. If I am being honest my power and the darkness I had felt in my mind when I unleashed it against shock wave had scared me a little. After all the dire warnings about what having Black wings meant I had no desire to turn into one. Somehow I have to hold onto my humanity when so many others could not. Pushing the thoughts forcibly away I concentrate on running without tripping and falling headlong.

Ahead of us the pin-prick of light grows closer, warming my skin as Chronos and I step into its embrace. The Elite Engifted breathes a sigh of relief. The creature chasing us let out another shriek, an oddly triumphant sounding one considering we are now safe from...long talons wrap around my wrist and jerk me back hard enough for Chronos to loose his grip. The Engifted cries out but there is nothing he can do. I can not help but feel a little annoyed. To get so close to safety, only to have it snatched away...I get a brief glimpse of sneering reptilian features before a heavy blow to the back of my head plunges me into darkness.


	4. The Ghostly Visitor- John

With a heavy sigh I turn my back on the window and its view over a rain soaked London and face the empty armchair on the other side of the room. At odd moments, especially early morning and late evening, I find myself missing Sherlock and wondering where the hell he has run off to this time. It has been two weeks since the dramatic scene outside Mycroft's house and nobody is any closer to working out what happened. One minute Sherlock was hovering in the sky with black wings outstretched (a cold shiver runs down my back at the memory) and the next there was nothing but empty sky.

Shaking my head I go into the kitchen to make a cup of tea, banging a mug down harder than is probably necessary on the counter. I can't believe Sherlock had kept this a secret from me. Sure it was huge and shocking news, but I would have accepted it eventually. That is what friends do after all. It hurts a little to think that he obviously didn't fully trust me. I clench my hands to stop them from shaking. It isn't like Engifted are even that unusual; London is full of them and we have helped more than a few in our time. I pause for a moment in pouring hot water into my mug as I am momentarily transported back to that moment when I had seen Sherlock take a life to protect me and Mycroft. Even now I am finding it hard to process what happened. I had never realised until that moment how much Sherlock actually cares about the people around him...I hang my head with a sigh. I wonder if I will ever see his face again.

Thankfully before I can sink much further into a black pit of despair there is a loud knock on the door. Oh good, Greg is here. I asked him to come and help me try to make at least a little sense out of what happened. After inviting him in I gesture for Greg to take a seat. He does so, leaving Sherlock's armchair empty. Unwillingly to sit in it I remain standing. "So, is there any news yet?" I ask him wearily. I am already beginning to give up hope of ever finding out anything. I am therefore surprised when Greg smiles and nods.

"You'll be pleased to know that there is." He says, pausing long enough to take a notebook from his jacket pocket and flip it open. "Over the past few days I have been receiving reports that several rather unusual and powerful Engifted have been spotted. Engifted that sound suspiciously similar to the legendary Elite. Only yesterday an Engifted with an identical description to Zephyr, the air Elite, was seen within the hills of the lake district." Throughout his explanation there is a happy grin on Greg's face.

I however am unable to see what he is getting so excited about. "Sorry but what has this got to do with Sherlock?"

Greg rolls his eyes, looking frustrated at my ignorance. "I've been looking over the stories and there are references to an Elite with powers almost identical to Sherlock's. I'm not sure of the exact connection yet but I am certain this could have something to do with his disappearance." He sounds so certain but I am going to need a little more convincing. It seems pretty weak and circumstantial in my opinion.

I shake my head. "I don't know Greg. It seems a little far-fetched to me." I reply, taking a sip of tea as I do so. Then from the corner of my eye I see movement over by the door. Now since I know Greg was alone it can only be an intruder. Muttering beneath my breath I turn to confront them. My words however die in my throat and a gasping choke escapes me.

Greg frowns at me before turning to look at what has shocked me so much. He freezes and his eyes noticeably widen. Even though it is utterly impossible Sherlock is standing in the flat and staring at the two of us with a deep sadness in his blue eyes. I am the first to react and go to rush over to him. A hand grips my arm tightly and yanks me back. "For God's sake Greg! It's Sherlock!" I cry, trying to free myself so I can rush to my friends side. What the hell is wrong with Greg? Doesn't he care that Sherlock is back? "Sherlock, where the bloody hell have you been? I've been so worried..." My voice trails away as a shiver of unease runs down my spine. In my joy at seeing Sherlock I overlooked a very important detail. I don't think this is the real Sherlock.

Looking closely I can clearly see that the Sherlock in front of me is rippling slightly; shifting imperceptibly between a perfectly healthy looking image to a terrifying blood stained one. I allow myself to be pulled backward to safety, knowing that Greg was right to hold me back. God only knows what would have happened if I had gone rushing in. The Sherlock image settles on the battered and bruised version of my friend. I have never heard of an Engifted having a power like this. Projecting illusions and hallucinations is supposed to be impossible... the image opens its mouth and I lean forward slightly, curious to find out what it might have to say.

Blood drips from between the image's shattered teeth and it winces slightly before it begins to speak. The breath catches in my chest. What the hell might have happened to have caused...I swallow hard before finishing the thought...such damage to Sherlock (if this is really his doing of course). "Help me." The image whispers in a cracked voice, reaching out pleadingly with broken, twisted fingers. "Please."

From behind me I hear the sound of the door opening. I wasn't expecting any other visitors and I exchange a glance with Greg. He doesn't look overly alarmed however which gives me an overwhelming clue as to the identity of the person who has just entered the flat. My suspicion is confirmed moments later by the familiar voice of Mycroft. "Sherlock?" He sounds shocked, which is understandable considering the state his brother is in.

The image tips it's head to one side. "Help me." It repeats. Behind it a pair of tattered wings unfold enough for us to see the savage tears in them. Tears prickle and threaten to fall and it takes quite an effort to force them back. Then, just as suddenly as it appeared, the image vanishes. In its wake is a small patch of blood staining the carpet.

Almost immediately my body begins to shake uncontrollably from the shock of what I have just seen and the air in the room feels as though it is suffocating me. Can that really have been Sherlock or was it just another Engifted playing a cruel trick? Whatever it is I need to get out of here for a while. I look up to find Greg watching me with some concern. Giving him a wobbly smile I head towards the corridor leading to Sherlock's bedroom. "I'll be back in a second. I just need to get some air." I tell them quietly, making sure to keep my face adverted so they can't see the tears streaming down my face.

Mycroft waited for the sound of the door closing before he turned to Lestrade with a sorrowful expression on his face. "He's taken Sherlock's disappearance hard hasn't he?" He said with a small shake of his head. Bending down he peered at the blood stain in an attempt to work out whether it was real or not. It looked alarmingly authentic from what he could tell. "I always wondered how close those two really were." He frowned when he noticed the look Lestrade was giving him. "Whatever is the matter?"

Lestrade gritted his teeth, determined not to swear too loudly at the guy he lived with. "You don't seem all that concerned that your brother was just standing right there!" He snapped, his eyes flashing with surprising anger considering how often he complained about Sherlock and his methods. He could hardly believe Mycroft's flippant attitude. It was like he didn't even care about... his train of thought faltered when he saw the anguish in Mycroft's eyes. He instantly felt guilty for doubting him. "I'm sorry, that was harsh of me. I imagine it was just as much of a shock for you." He said in apology, walking over to lay a comforting hand on Mycroft's arm.

Mycroft hung his head. "You're right Greg. I was acting a little cold." He sighed and slumped to the floor, burying his head in his hands. With a loud cracking sound ice spread across the floor in a fragile layer. Lestrade took a step back, knowing all too well what Mycroft was capable of when his emotions weren't fully under his control. "It was just such a shock to see my little brother looking like that.

Lestrade ran a hand through his thinning hair and glanced down at the blood stain that now sparkled beneath a dusting of snow. Though it seemed callous to ask he desperately wanted to know more about the image and what it could mean. He took a deep breath. "What was that anyway...that image? Could it be part of Sherlock's powers?" He asked.

Mycroft just about managed to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Sometimes he forgot how little Lestrade actually knew about the world of the Engifted. Not that he was really complaining. His world was brutal and vicious and he would rather his friends stay out of it. He sighed and melted the ice he had accidentally unleashed. It was a minor miracle he hadn't frozen Lestrade as well. "I wish it was Greg, oh God I really wish that was Sherlock. Manifestations such as that are a speciality of an Engifted known as the Nightmare." He looked up and met Lestrade's eye. There was an apprehensive look on the Policeman's face. Good, at least he had actually heard of the Engifted. Mycroft hadn't overly wanted to have to go into too much detail. Nightmare wasn't an Engifted you talked about lightly. "The Nightmare is famous for creating illusions designed to manipulate people's thoughts."

Lestrade sucked in a breath. There was a look of horror on his face. "But creating an image like that...that's messed up." His eyes widened when he noticed that Mycroft's hands were beginning to shake. Once again ice crept across the carpet, freezing everything in its path. "What's wrong?"

Mycroft let out a sigh. "I'm scared Greg. What if that wasn't an illusion at all?" He asked with a tinge of panic in his voice.

Lestrade had no answer for that. All he could hope was that Sherlock was somewhere safe and sound. The alternative was too horrible to contemplate.

Faraway from London in a place no human would ever be able to find Sherlock Holmes slumped against the bare concrete wall of his cell as much as the chains would allow him. He felt so tired, all his energy drained from that simple projection. Please dear God let it have worked. He didn't have the strength for another one. All he could now was pray John would see him and somehow work out what it was going on. It was a long shot but hope was the only thing Sherlock had left.

From out of the surrounding darkness there came a dark laugh. "Dear me Mr Holmes, I was expecting better from you. Did you not think I would notice you stealing part of my power to use yourself?" A pair of red eyes blinked open and glares with hatred at the broken figure before it. Slowly something began to form from the darkness. A vaguely human shape with draconic wings and darkness oozing from its stone like skin. When it smiled there was a bright glint of sharp silvery teeth. "It was a rather pathetic attempt too." Reaching out it ran a claw tip along Sherlock's cheekbone, leaving behind a thin trail of blood. Sherlock didn't even flinch, too exhausted for even that.

The dark creature, that which was known by the name Nightmare, gripped Sherlock's chin and forced his head up. "The sooner you give in to me the sooner the pain will stop." It hissed, the red eyes glowing brighter for a moment. Then, taking a deep breath, Nightmare blew a cloud of writhing darkness into Sherlock's face.

Even then Sherlock didn't cry out, despite the agonising pain tearing through him as the darkness ripped him apart from the inside. His eyes clouded over and he went limp, his mind turning inward to fight off the Nightmare's power.

A nasty smirk spread across the Nightmare's features as he released Sherlock and vanished back into the blackness he had come from. "Sweet dreams Mr Holmes."


	5. The Elite are real- John

That night, once I have finally persuaded Greg and Mycroft that I will be fine (apparently locking myself in Sherlock's bedroom and refusing to come out isn't conducive to stable mental health), I find myself unable to sleep. As I toss and turn my mind is assaulted by a series of horrific Nightmare's that leave me shaking and gasping for breath. Starring in all of them is a blood drenched Sherlock begging for my help, his eyes dripping blood and his body covered with wounds that make my stomach churn unpleasantly. The last nightmare I suffer before I finally give up on sleep is one of the worst. In it Sherlock is surrounded by total blackness, chained to a hard, cold concrete wall, and screaming as a dark cloud swirls around him. As he chokes on blood and begs for the pain to stop a pair of red eyes watch him with an intensity that suggests they are enjoying the scene before them.

With a gasp I sit up, my heart pounding as though it is trying to burst from my chest, and try to control my panicked breathing. What the he'll was that? Despite everything I have been through with Sherlock, and all my terrible memories from the war I have never, ever had a single nightmare. What made this time so different from all the other traumatic ones? Unwilling to think about about it too deeply at the moment (I am still half asleep after all) I reach for my phone, wanting to hear a reassuringly friendly voice...which is totally ridiculous considering it's the middle of the night. Neither Greg or Mycroft would appreciate being woken at two in the morning.

Twisting round I angrily punch my pillow a dozen times until I finally feel able to breath without wanting to scream my head off. I hate this! I hate this! I want life to go back to how it was- before I discovered Sherlock was an Engifted. Though I'm not an expert on his kind I do know that having Black feathers is normally a bad thing. Not that that can surely apply to Sherlock. I have faith my friend won't suddenly turn evil and start killing innocent people. I have seen the kindness and love that he usually keeps buried deep within his heart...

A loud crash from somewhere nearby jolts me from my thoughts. There is someone besides me in the flat! My instant reaction is to reach for the gun I keep in my bedside dresser ( an old habit left over from my days in the army). It is then I remember that it isn't my bed I am sleeping in. Cursing my lack of foresight I slowly climb out of bed and make my way down the corridor, trying not to make any noise that will alert the person in the flat to my presence. Though I listening hard I am unable to hear anything. Judging by the location of the initial noise they should (in theory) still be in the kitchen. Taking a deep breath I compose myself and then leap forward to confront the intruder.

Almost immediately I freeze and stare at the person I am faced with. She is definitely an Engifted- there is nothing else she could be with a body that shimmers and ripples like the surface of a lake. I had always thought (apparently wrongly) that an Engifted merely gained wings and powers when they transformed. This Engifted however shatters that illusion. Her entire body, wings included, look as it is made out of water.

She bows her head and smiles when she notices me. "Greetings." She says in high, clear voice that sounds so much like waves crashing on a beach, "I am Mariner the Ancient One." The liquid surface of her wings glows brightly in the orange light streaming through from the street outside. "I am sorry if I woke you. I was trying to get set up before the rest arrived." She explains as she pulls another chair forward and sets it into the circle she is arranging.

Even though I know it's highly rude I continue to stare at her, wondering who the hell she is and what she is doing in my flat. "Why are you here? Who are you meeting with?" I ask, crossing my arms and fixing her with a stern look. Technically I could have this Engifted arrested for breaking and entering if I do wished. New laws recently passed means that, despite their fantastical powers, Engifted are subject to the same laws that humans are. It evens things out a little and makes us humans feel that little bit safer.

The Engifted pauses and turns stormy grey eyes to look at me curiously. "We thought, since Sherlock was taken before he could meet Celeste, it would make sense to meet somewhere with a personal connection to him. We thought, maybe, we could find some sort of clue as to where he might be being held."

At this I feel a shiver run through me. Now this is information I didn't know. "Taken?" I question, my voice rising, "By who? What the hell do you know?"

A dark expression settles over the Engifted's face, dark storm clouds suddenly appearing across a previously calm sky. I begin to get the feeling I may have over stepped some form of boundary. "You have absolutely no idea who you're talking to do you?" Her voice deepens, taking on a threatening tone. "If you did you would think twice before addressing me in such a manner."

"Now, now Mariner it ain't the humans fault he's ignorant. Not even the majority of Engifted know we actually exist." The voice, deeper than Mariner's and with an airy sound to it, comes from over by the open window. Which is odd because I could swear it was closed minutes before. I turn and find myself faced with another Engifted. This one has wings made up of swirling bands of air that are constantly twisting and turning. It makes me dizzy to watch for too long. "I understand why he's being a little rude. Don't forget that John here has no idea what happened to Sherlock after the events of that night." He smiles at me, a remarkably friendly affair when Mariner is still glaring at me so fiercely.

Mariner sighs and falls heavily into the chair behind her. "I know Zephyr...we Elite's are supposed to keep our existence a secret." She regards me intently for a moment. "What I don't understand is why Celeste is willing to trust this human. Normally she tends to stay well away from them." I can actually hear the audible sneer that is in her voice. Yes, I do actually feel a little insulted to be referred to simply as 'this human'.

"Because he knows Sherlock on a personal level and he saw his powers up close. Celeste believes he can help us shed some light on what happened to Sherlock. You know full well Mariner what his powers could mean for the Engifted world." Zephyr explains in a patient voice.

Mariner makes no further comment and simply stares at me with an intense expression that quickly makes me feel uncomfortable. An awkward silence settles over the room, broken only by the sound of Zephyr muttering beneath his breath. So these are the Elite Engifted, those who are practically God's in a community of powered people. I had always thought they were nothing but stories. It's incredible that they are actually real- and currently meeting in my flat. My mind reels, struggling to process the information. Could I perhaps be dreaming?

That hope is quickly shattered when a gentle hand lightly touches my shoulder. At the same time a feeling of peace settles over me. Mariner and Zephyr sit up a little straighter, both of them coming to attention. Curious I glance over my shoulder. The Engifted standing behind me is truly beautiful and I find myself unable to look away from her glittering multi-coloured wings that illuminate the room with a soft, almost ethereal light. She smiles at me before delicately gliding over to the most comfortable chair, sitting down in a swirl of gossamer skirts and a cloud of glitter. "Zephyr, Mariner, squabbling again I hear." The Engifted murmurs in a musical voice, her silvery eyes serious.

Zephyr at least has the decency to look ashamed. "Sorry Celeste, Mariner was questioning your decision to meet here." He say in a low voice.

Celeste, the Elite who in the stories has the power of creation at her fingertips shakes her head. "I despair of you two sometimes. Air and water should at least try to get along." She says, sounding disappointed. Then, to my horror, she turns her eyes to me. A smile spreads across her face. "Mr Watson, I apologise for this intrusion but I believe you may be able to help..." She is interrupted by the sound of the clock on the mantlepiece chiming fourteen times in a row. "Oh good, Chronos is here." She says, turning to face the centre of the room just as the strangest Engifted I have ever seen materialised there.

His entire body, wings included, is made from hundreds of delicate moving clockwork parts. I find myself staring at him in shock, trying to make sense of what I am seeing; an Engifted with the power to see into the future and manipulate time according to the stories. Beside him are two Engifted who very obviously represent the elements of fire and earth. All of them bow low to Celeste before taking a seat.

Celeste clears her throat, "Now we are all here the meeting can begin." But that can't be right became there are only six Engifted here. In the stories there are always seven members of the Elite. Not that I am going to bring this up because I can't help but feel a little intimidated being surrounded by this lot. "Mr Watson, why don't you tell us what you saw?"

Nervously I clear my throat a few times before I finally feel able to speak. It doesn't take long to explain to them what I saw from the black wings to Shockwave's death. I realise with a jolt how little I actually know about the new Engifted Sherlock and his powers. I lower my eyes and stare at the floor. "I'm sorry I can't be of more help."

"There's no need for you to apologise Mr Watson. You barely had enough time to get to know Sherlock after his transformation." Suddenly her face clouds over and a dark shadow seems to settle over the room. With it comes a icy chill. "Chronos, why don't you tell us again what you experienced on the Celestrial Plains." If my eyes aren't deceiving me Celeste looks distinctly less glittery than when she first entered 221B.

Chronos sighs and hangs his head, the golden glow surrounding him noticeably dimming. "There was not much to see. Just a great dark cloud and a pair of red eyes." He glances at me with a deep sadness in his eyes. "By the time I realised something was wrong Sherlock was already gone."

Up to now Mariner has been silent but apparently she can't resist making sarcastic comments. "Pretty rubbish considering you're supposed to see into the future." She says with a sneer on her face as she shakes her head, splattering droplets of water in all directions.

To my surprise Chronos looks thoughtful rather than offended and looks over at Celeste, whose silvery eyes widen. "You don't think..." she breathes, "Is it even possible?"

Chronos Steelers his fingers beneath his chin and stares at the floor. "It could be. I mean we knew eventually Thanstos would have to turn up. We are all here after all.

I have absolutely no idea what they are talking about and judging by their confused looks none of the other Elite do either. Clearing my throat I take a step forward. Celeste and Chronos barely glance at me, absorbed as they are in their conversation. "Sorry, what are you going on about?"

Head to one side Celeste turns to me and fixes me with a intense look. I feel a shiver course down my spine. I'm not sure if I want to find out what the Elite are talking about any more. I kind of like my uncomplicated little life before any of this happened, before Sherlock became an Engifted. Celeste lazily waves her hand, making glitter dance in the air. "Your friend, Sherlock Holmes, according to the future Chronos has glimpsed, is an incredibly powerful Engifted but he has never been able to see anything definite." She takes a deep breath before she continues, "Chronos is unable to sense other Elites."

I would be lying if I didn't say this revelation,and what it hints at, totally floors me. Speechless all I can do is stare at Celeste while my frozen brain desperately tries to come up with a reply. Surely it's unthinkable. Until he went through his transformation Sherlock was just another human with nothing to label him out as the seventh most powerful Engifted in the world. Well he's special to me of course but I don't think that really counts. I shake my head. No. It simply can't be true. I say as much to Celeste but she merely gives me a sympathetic smile.

"I know it's a lot to take in at once Mr Watson, especially considering Sherlock never told you he was an Engifted..."

"Probably too ashamed to when you look at all the humans he's hanging around with. I wonder what's he's got against his own kind." Mariner interrupts, sounding as though she is seriously thinking about it.

I clench my fists. It probably won't be the smartest idea to punch an Elite Engifted but I am close to letting logic fly out the window. How dare she say such things about Sherlock! And with him not here to defend himself as well...It simply isn't fair. "You know, Sherlock and I were perfectly happy before Chronos showed up and dragged him away to meet you lot!" I cry, wincing slightly when I hear the anger in my voice. Deep down my instincts are screaming at me to stop but I don't think I could even if I wanted to. I have never been able to be calm and rational where Sherlock is involved...God I miss him so much!

Eyes flashing Mariner rises from her seat. I take a step back, suddenly regretting my rash words. "Really, you actually believe Sherlock was happy being trapped in his pathetic little human life?!" She says with a sneer. Behind her the other Elite's look uncomfortable. "He was eagerly waiting for his wings to appear human. If Nightmare hadn't snatched him first he would have come running the instant we asked him to join our ranks. He would have abandoned you in a heartbeat." Water drips off her in waves, rapidly soaking the carpet.

I begin to shake uncontrollably, my knees barely holding me upright. Squeezing my eyes shut I shake my head to try and clear it of the negative thoughts currently buzzing around. That can't be true! Sherlock would never! I know, from his words and his actions that he does care about me- even though he may show it in odd ways sometimes. My breath catches in my throat. I might never see him again and I never got to tell him..." My train of though is broken by a gentle hand on my shoulder followed by a wave of peace washing through me. Some of the tension relaxes from my muscles.

"That is enough Mariner." Says Celeste's musical voice from right behind me. "Leave Mr Watson alone. He has been through enough without you bullying him." Mariner opens her mouth to protest but Celeste carries on talking, effectively cutting off anything she might of said. "I am sorry for causing you additional stress and heartache Mr Watson. I though coming here would perhaps help us better understand the Engifted Sherlock has become." She sighs heavily, "But I was wrong. All we can do now is to continue searching for him and pray that Nightmare doesn't break him." She finishes, her voice filled with sorrow.

My heart skips a beat upon hearing this and I swallow hard. This is the second time I have heard this Nightmare mentioned and both times there has been fear in the voices that have spoken it. I glance over my shoulder into a pair of melancholy silvery eyes. Though I am not sure I want to hear the answer I know I won't be able to sleep well at night if I don't ask the question. "Who is this Nightmare you keep talking about? What does he want with Sherlock?"

From all the Elite present there is a sharp inhalation of breath and they all stare at me with wide eyes. "An Engifted you should pray you never have the misfortune of meeting Mr Watson..." Celeste pauses with a thoughtful expression in her eyes, as though she is carefully considering how to answer my second question. "Try not to worry too much about Sherlock, we will concentrate all our efforts into finding him." She says, almost deliberately skirting round the actual question I asked. After this it is as though she simply runs out of words. One by one the Elite's stand until all of them are standing in a circle holding hands. Each of them bow their heads in turn to me and I see the same sympathy in every single pair of eyes. I know then for certain that there is something they are not telling me, some secret they are refusing to tell me. This, of course, just makes me determined to find out what it is. A bright light envelopes the Elite's and just as suddenly as they appeared in the flat, they vanish. Leaving me alone and confused, an emotion that only grows when I look at the window to find the sun shining brightly.

Which is odd, because it was defiantly night-time when I came downstairs. Frowning I find my phone and push a button to illuminate the screen. I am greeted by sixteen missed calls, three dozen texts and a clock stating that it is two in the afternoon. I stare at it blankly for a moment before the true enormity begins to sink in. Shit! Somehow, without me noticing, I have lost half a day. Mycroft and Greg must be going out of their minds with worry. I am going to have so much explaining to do! With a groan I sink down into the nearest seat. Like most people I have been vaguely aware of the Engifted on the news and have occasionally glimpsed their wings while walking down the street. This is the first time though I have actually been personal involved and so far it has proven to be a bit of a disaster. I have already missing my ordinary, quiet little life with Sherlock (Well. Okay, it wasn't exactly all that quiet...but at least I knew what the hell was going on most of the time). Here goes, time to face the music. Taking a deep breath I hit dial and wait for the call to connect.


	6. A further complication

The shrill, insistent ringing of Greg's phone echoed loudly through his small and impressively untidy flat. Despite the noise it still took Greg several long moments to register that his phone was going off. Reluctantly crawling out of his warm bed and wincing at the bright sunlight searing into his eyes he stumbled into the kitchen in search of it, eventually finding it beneath the crumpled pinstripe jacket lying beside the table. A faint blush crept to his cheeks as last nights events slowly came back to him. After leaving John and Sherlock's flat Mycroft had seemed so upset that inviting him back for a cup of tea had seemed like the only logical thing to do...shaking his head he picked up his phone and smiled. Well events had, somewhat, escalated.

"Hello?" He asked sleepily with a yawn before instantly feeling guilty after glancing at the clock and seeing it was officially the afternoon. Not that it really mattered. It was Sunday anyway and nobody had apparently noticed his absence at the office. Which was good because there was no way he would be able to explain this. "Greg Lestrade speaking." From the voice on the other end there came a perfectly legitimate question. "Oh Mycroft was so upset that I made him stay over (which was technically true). Anyway, what the hell happened to you? We are all worried sick when we went to the flat to discover you were gone!" He listened for a moment to John. A frown formed on his face and steadily grew more serious as he heard exactly where John had been for half a day. He almost couldn't believe it, the Elite Engifted were real!? Why this changed everything they knew about them! "Don't go anywhere okay. I'm on my way." And with that Lestrade hung up.

From behind him there came the sound of light footsteps and he glanced over his shoulder to find Mycroft walking slowly towards him, his eyes still half clouded with sleep. A smile spread across Lestrade's face and he paused long enough to lightly peck Mycroft on the lips. "Who's that calling?" The elder Holmes Brother asked with a yawn as he headed towards the bathroom. "News about Sherlock?" He sounded so hopeful that Lestrade felt a slight pang at having to let him down.

Lestrade located the rest of his clothes and hastily began pulling them on, not caring they were the exact same ones he had been wearing yesterday. He highly doubted that John would even notice. "John." He answered simply, "and apparently he had the honour of meeting the Elite Engifted." He laughed when he saw the wide eyed surprise on Mycroft's face, "I know! I had the exact same reaction. I can hardly believe it either."

Abruptly Mycroft was much more awake then he had been five minutes ago. Spinning on his heel he hurried back towards the kitchen with his mind reeling at what he had just heard. "Are you serious?!" He asked, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. Behind him his delicate icy wings were tucked into the hollow of his back. The Elite were supposed to be bedtime stores told to young Engifted. Nobody thought they actually existed! A sudden thought struck him and he cleared his throat. "Is John alright? Do you want me to come to Baker Street with you?" Sure he had meetings he needed to be in but he would willingly miss them today for John, who he knew had taken Sherlock's disappearance hard. There was a lot of love between the two of them. Mycroft's serious grey eyes softened slightly as he watched Lestrade buttoning his shirt all the wrong way in his haste to get out the door. "Here let me do that." He said with a smile.

Lestrade stopped, let out a sigh and admitted defeat, allowing Mycroft to take over. "Its okay, you don't need to come. I know you're busy at work today.." He sucked in a breath as one of Mycroft's fingers brushed lightly against his skin. It took quite a bit of willpower not to respond. Right now he had other things to focus on. "I'll call you if anything comes up."

Mycroft finished the last button and stepped back. "Okay, you're ready to go out into the world. And I'll hold you to that. Any news, any news at all and I'll expect you to call me." His face fell, his expression darkening as his thoughts turned to his brother. "I hope Sherlock is alright." He stared at the floor and let out a sigh that ended in a small cloud of icy breath. Engifted tend to loose control of their powers when they aren't in control of their emotions. With Sherlock being so new he would (in theory anyway) have terrible control over his powers. It was incredible no reports had been filed... Mycroft couldn't help but feel something was terribly wrong. He knew he shouldn't think like that but it was getting hard to remain positive. Sherlock had now been missing for several weeks and there should have been some sign of him by now. God only knew what was keeping him away.

His heart going out to him, though Mycroft may hide it Lestrade knew how much he loved Sherlock, Lestrade reached out to gently lift Mycroft's face to his. Then he slowly leant forward until their lips were almost touching. "I'm sure Sherlock will be fine. He knows how to look after himself." He said in an attempt to be reassuring. Deep down though he couldn't help but worry and he suspected Mycroft could tell, despite his best attempts to hide it.

In answer to this Mycroft closed the gap between them and pressed his lips to Lestrade's, wrapping his arms around him to draw him closer. Unable to help himself Lestrade brushed one hand over the cold and yet surprisingly soft feathers of one wing. A shudder of pleasure ran through Mycroft and he buried his head in Lestrade's shoulder. "Careful Heart of mine, that's how we got into this in the first place." Mycroft said in a breathy voice, swallowing hard and forcing himself to take a step back. Oh how he wished he could crawl back into bed with Lestrade and not leave. He sighed. With Sherlock missing he shouldn't be enjoying himself like this... A wave of guilt swept over him and he hung his head. He didn't even look up as Lestrade sat down to lace up his boots.

"Why did everything go so wrong?" Mycroft muttered to himself, clenching his fists even as ice crept up the wall behind him. If his little brother was hurt...He squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to think about the terrifying vision that had appeared in Baker Street just yesterday. It couldn't be true, it just couldn't. He swallowed hard and opened his eyes to find Lestrade was already gone, heading out into the cold of a wintery London afternoon. All Mycroft could do now was pray everything, somehow, turned out okay. He didn't know what he would do if anything happened to Sherlock.

Poor John Watson never knew what hit him. One moment he was gazing out of the window after having just phoned Lestrade. The next he was lying halfway across the room with his ears ringing and blinking back a blinding flash of light. Every muscle burned and ached and his vision flickered, the edges momentarily going black. What the hell just happened? John tried to get up but his limbs shook and refused to hold him. Panic flooded through him. He attempted to cry out and only managed a weak, indistinct gurgle. He couldn't even reach his phone to send for help. From somewhere nearby came the sound of beating wings but John was unable to turn his head and look. Still it didn't take Sherlock like powers to work out who it might be. Wings and feathers could only mean an Engifted.

"Bloody hell Stormbringer. I said knock him out, not try to kill him!" Cried a husky voice in an exasperated tone. Footsteps sounded against the floorboards, heading in John's direction.

"How was I to know he was standing so close to the window?" Another, more petulant voice protested. "Its hardly my fault you read the life signs in the room wrong!"

John let out a groan. Definitely Engifted. He could only assume their appearance here had something to do with Sherlock's disappearance. Not that that piece of information helped him all that much. There was nothing, in his paralysed state, he could actually do. Despair replaced the panic, flooding through him in a black wave strong enough to make his breath catch in his throat.

The husky sounding Engifted snorted loudly in obvious disbelief. "It's hardly my fault you can't control your powers. I said a light blast of electricity- not a fucking lightning bolt." There was a pause before a fearsome, skeletal face peered down at John, whose eyes widened slightly. Bony fingers with hardly any skin lightly brushed against his neck as they searched for a pulse. "Lucky for you he's still breathing or you'd been facing Nightmare when we arrived back." The skeletal Engifted eased John up into a seated position and leaned him carefully against the wall. All John could do was blink his eyes and listen.

The other Engifted, the one addressed as Stormbringer, let out a hollow sounding laugh. "Nightmare doesn't scare me anymore. His powers are weak compared to the new Black wing he captured the other day."

The skeletal Engifted sighed and shook his head at his companion's stupidity. "It is not for us to question Nightmare Stormbringer. We simply obey him." John shivered when the Engifted turned blank white eyes to him. Unlike Mycroft who just had wings these Engifted were truely inhuman, and unsettling as a result.

John's heart skipped slightly. The Black wing they were talking about could only be Sherlock! He gritted his teeth. There was no way he could just lay there and allow himself to be taken. Concentrating hard he tried to force an arm, or even just a finger to move. To his frustration nothing happened. If he could only reach his phone he could activate the homing app Lestrade had made he and Sherlock install after they had gone missing for two weeks. From what John could remember the case had featured an Engifted with powers similar to that of a mythological siren. Now that'd been an interesting few weeks...

John was shaken from his thoughts when the skeletal Engifted bent down and easily lifted him, casually tossing him over one shoulder. A jolt of pain tore through John's head, shaking him into unconscious. After that there was nothing but blackness.

As was beginning to become normal for Greg Lestrade he literally missed the excitement by a few minutes, arriving to find an empty flat and a shattered window. Shaking his head in despair Lestrade swore under his breath, frustrated this was happening again. Maybe one day he would be able to save John and Sherlock before the bad things happened to them.

Hastily he began to search the room. It didn't take him long to find a few white and acid yellow feathers scattered beneath the window amongst the broken glass. Angrily he punched the room, instantly regretting it when pain shot down his arm. This was starting to get ridiculous. He sighed, hanging his head. Great- now he had two missing people to find. Reluctantly he reached into his pocket for his phone, feeling guilty for the extra distress he was about to cause, and dialled the first number he came to. It took a second to connect. "Mycroft, we may have a slight problem..."


	7. Deeper into darkness- John

From somewhere, through a haze of pain, I hear a familiar voice calling my name. "John! John? Can you hear me? Please, you have to wake up!" I can't quite place where I have heard it before, but they obviously must care for me because there is a frantic tone in the voice. Hands grip my shoulders tightly and begin gently shaking me. I let out a groan of protest. My head is pounding and I feel as though I've been crushed by several kilos of rocks. Each shake sends a stab of pain through me. "Please John!"

I groan again and reluctantly open my eyes. Bright light sears and I squeese my eyes shut again. Ouch. The hands tighten and I let out a sigh. This person is pretty bloody persistent. Finally I feel ready to try opening my eyes again. When I do I can't help but smile when I see the blue eyes staring at me with concern. Of course- I should have known it would be him. "Sherlock." I croak, my throat dry and parched.

A look of relief passes across Sherlock face and unusually he doesn't try to hide it like he normally would. He really must have been really worried about me. "John! Oh thank God!" I try to sit up and he gently pushes me back down. "I wouldn't move just yet. Stormbringer's lightning attacks did quite a bit of damage. If you move you'll undo all my good work." He says with a smile and a raised eyebrow.

I blink at him in confusion, wondering what on earth he is going on about. Before I can ask him however a strange pain ripples down my left arm, strong enough to cause me to let out a yelp. Sherlock grimaced and lightly taps me on the forehead. A wave of calm washes over me and I find myself off to sleep. I fight it however, determined to find out what is going on. "Sherlock, what happened to you?" I see a flash of pain behind the blue eyes and my stomach lurches as I remember the image that had appeared in the flat. "Sherlock?" I ask a little uncertainly, not sure if I want to hear the answer.

Sherlock sighs. "I really don't want to talk about it." He says with a darkness in his tone. I feel a shiver run down my spine and I swear I see a momentary black flicker in his eyes. It passes too quickly for me to be certain I actually saw it. An uneasy silence falls, stretching out until it is finally broken by Sherlock clearing my throat. "How is Mycroft?" I know he is deliberately changing the subject, but for now I am willing to play along.

Still lying on the floor I attempt a shrug. Instantly I freeze, expecting my muscles to scream in protest and am pleasantly surprised when nothing happens. "He's worried about you Sherlock. Everyone is...Even the Elite Engifted were concerned you had been taken..." My voice trails away when I see the shock written on Sherlock's face. "What?" I ask, afraid I've said something wrong.

He continues to stare at me. "It's nothing...just, you met the Elite Engifted? Really? All of them? I only had the honour of meeting Chronos...What were they like?" He sounds curious and jealous at the same time. As he speaks he lifts his hand from my chest. With a jolt I realise it is glowing. Sherlock notices me looking and hastily lowers it again. "Come on John, indulge me. We're probably never getting out of here."

Well that's a tad defeatist for someone who single handidly defeated Shockwave. Surely he can use his fantastic new powers to get us out of where ever this is. I turn my attention to our surroundings and my heart sinks a little. Ok, I have to admit it doesn't look all that good. We are in a room barely big enough for two people, it would take me four steps to pace from one side to the other, and is completely devoid of any decoration, making the bare concrete walls seem all the more stark and unfriendly. There is no sign of a door, not even an outline, and I can't help but frown a little in confusion. Okay so unless Sherlock can manipulate stone he might have a point. I let out a heavy sigh and quickly tell Sherlock all about the Elite Engifted. He listens silently, apparently fascinated by what I'm saying. My body no longer aches and after a while I feel strong enough to sit up. Sherlock keeps one hand on my shoulder and watches me intently, as though expecting me to double over with pain or something.

Sitting down beside me Sherlock rests his head on mine and wraps one black wings around me. The feathers are warmer than I expected and softer then the silk tie I used to own. It's odd but being this close to Sherlock feels incredibly comfortable, almost like we belong. Sherlock's chest heaves in a sigh. "You know, this wasn't what I was expecting." He said, his voice gentle.

I shift slightly so I can look into his eyes which, now I look closer, are defiantly more black than blue. There is a sadness there and I find myself wanting to somehow wipe it away. "What do you mean?" I ask him softly as I lean back against him. Sherlock hugs me closer and a shiver runs through my skin in response.

There is a heavy sigh before Sherlock finally speaks, his eyes focused on the opposite wall. There is a tension in his body and I am aware of a faint crackle in the air, similar to that I felt when Sherlock was using his powers against Shock wave. "You're so calm about all of this John." He pauses, swallows hard and absently strokes a hand through his feathers, "I expected there to be more panicking and yet...you barely seem affected."

I inhale sharply and twist round to gently place my hand on his left cheek. Sherlock's eyes widen slightly and he seems unsure of what is happening. "At first, a few days after the incident outside Mycroft's house, I was scared of what you were. I only know a few Engifted and none of them have powers like yours." Sherlock's expression falls a little and I hastily carry on talking. "But then, when you didn't come back for weeks, I began to worry and I realised I didn't care what you had become..." My voice trails away as I take another breath. I can't believe I am actually going to say this to him. God knows how he will react. Summoning my courage I carry on talking, "I realised that all I wanted was to have you back Sherlock, Black wings, new powers and all. It's taken this long to realise it but..." I am cut off when Sherlock lays a finger on my lips, a secretive smile on his face mixed with relief.

"I know. You don't need to say it." He murmurs, his voice gentle. My heart skips in response and something deep in my soul, something I have always tried to keep locked away, slowly rises to the surface. "Thank you for always being there for me. You're the only constant thing in my life John." Sherlock says, his eyes a shining ocean blue once more with no trace of the previous black.

I swallow hard. Sherlock's face is inches from my own and I can feel his warm breath against my cheeks. All I would have to do is lean forward and...Before I can react on my impulse Sherlock takes away any chances for indecision on my part. Closing the gap between us he presses his lips against mine. My heart leaps in response and I reach up to wrap my arms around his neck. His body is warm against mine and I am vaguely aware of his wings curling around me so I am in a warm, feathery cocoon. Then all thoughts are driven from my mind as I lose myself in the moment. I have wanted this for years and I can hardly believe it's finally happening. The kiss deepens, becoming urgent and I gently run my hands down his shoulders, accidentally brushing against one of his wings. Sherlock shivers in response and let's out a low moan of pleasure.

I break off the kiss and lean back slightly, my eyebrows raised. "Sherlock, what was that?" I ask, my voice breathy. It takes quite some effort not to tear his shirt off.

Before Sherlock can reply a deep, disembodied voice echoes around the tiny room. "I always knew you had a soft spot Mr Holmes." The effect of the voice on Sherlock is startling. With a loud hiss he bares teeth rather more pointed than they were a few weeks ago and shifts into a protective stance with his wings curled above him. The Black feathers almost seem to be rippling with an unseen force. The deep voice lets out a low laugh, "Oh don't be like that. If you would just join me this would be so much easier for all of us. Nobody needs to get hurt." Despite what is being said there is a definite threat of violence in the underlying tone. A shiver runs down my spine. I have a horrible feeling that something is about to happen...

I spoke too soon. Even as I am thinking this thought two tendrils of shadow burst from the wall beside me and wrap themselves tightly around my arms. I barely have time to cry out before I am slammed back against the wall with enough force to knock the breath from my lungs. I gasp out the first word that comes to mind, "Sherlock!"

Sherlock spins round, his face darkening when he sees me. I also see alarm flash across his features which is an emotion I have trouble associating with the often arrogant detective. He goes to step forward and the shadow holding me sharpen, slicing into the flesh of my arms enough to draw blood. Instantly Sherlock freezes but it is clear it pains him to do so...I can see it in his eyes, which are once more beginning to turn black. "Let John go Nightmare. He's not a part of this world and he shouldn't have to suffer for my mistakes." He says, his voice shaking ever so slightly. I always knew he would someday get me killed. I was just hoping I would get to spend some time with him first. Sherlock snarls loudly. "If you hurt him Nightmare, I swear I will kill you."

The deep laugh echoes around the room, sounding, if possible, even more amused then it did before. "I never said that, I, would be be the one to touch him." Nightmare answers with a dark joy in his voice. Despite the danger I am in I find myself gritting my teeth in an attempt to hide my dislike of this Engifted. I don't like anybody who enjoys causing pain to others for their own enjoyment.

As the last strains of Nightmare's voice faded away a tall figure materialised in the centre of the room. A figure with bone white wings and a skeletal body...in short the same Engifted who kidnapped me from Baker Street. I swallow hard against a shiver of fear and feel my heart sink when Sherlock's face drains of colour. He knows who this Engifted is (which is more than I can say for me. I'm still totally in the dark and I'm not sure if I want to be enlightened. Sometimes not knowing can be a blessing). I can almost see the gears of Sherlock brain turning as he tries to work out a way out of this without either of us getting hurt. So far it isn't looking good.

The skeletal Engifted grins and walks over to stand before me, regarding me with a critical eye. He dips his head in a small bow. "Greetings Mr Watson. My name is Bonebreaker and I shall be your torturer today." Well that sounds suitably ominous. I try (and fail miserably) not to flinch when the Engifted places a hand on my shoulder. There is a surge of power, a peculiar pulling sensation and then I feel my shoulder dislocated with a small crack.

I bite my lip against a cry of pain and force myself to focus on something else. My gaze is drawn almost against my will to Sherlock as though, somehow, the mere look of him will give me strength. Right now he seems torn between acting and causing me even more pain, or doing nothing and being forced to watch Bonebreaker do his work. Neither choice seems particularly appetising and I can see him doing something stupid in the near future. I don't think I could bear it if he got hurt because of me, especially since I have only just been reunited with him. In a desperate attempt to communicate I shake my head slightly to show that I'll be fine, despite the dull pain radiating from my shoulder.

Sherlock however doesn't appear to notice and is staring at Bonebreaker with a smouldering hatred similar to that directed at Shock wave when he was threatening me and Lestrade. I can still remember all too clearly what happened on that occasion. All remaining thoughts are driven from my head when Bonebreaker places a splayed hand on my chest. Once again there is a surge of power and two of my ribs snap beneath the pressure. This time I don't even try to hold back my cry of pain, a cry that quickly turns into a choked gasp when I find myself struggling to breath through the sharp stab I feel every time my chest moves. Tears spring to my eyes and I feel one slowly drip down my cheek. I hang my head, unable to look at the pain in Sherlock's eyes any longer.

"For God's sake stop it!" Sherlock shouts. There is a long, ominous silence that seems to carry a great weight within it, and then Bonebreaker let's out a piercing shriek and falls to his knees. Weakly I raise my head. Blood drips from Bonebreaker's eyes and mouth while the Engifted moans quietly, obviously suffering from some deep internal torment. I glance over at Sherlock and my eyes widen in shock. A dark aura glows around my friend and his eyes are the same deep inky black as his lace like feathers. Suddenly I'm not sure who he is any more. The thought scares me a little.

Bonebreaker screams again, his voice rising until it breaks and he is left without words. Blood pours from his mouth and he slumps forward, becoming horribly still. He doesn't move and I feel my pulse skip. Sherlock can't have really killed him can he? "Sherlock, what the hell did you do?" I demand, struggling against the shadows around my arms and not caring about the blood trickling from the nasty cuts. Sherlock remains silent and I feel a momentary wave of panic. I swallow hard. "Sherlock?" I ask a little hesitantly, afraid of what the answer might be.

When Sherlock looks at me his eyes are blank and utterly devoid of all emotion. "I stopped him from hurting you." There is something not quite human about him but I can't put my finger on what exactly has changed. It could be the black eyes, the claws or the black glow around him but it is something more than that. His entire being is different...this is not the Sherlock I know and love. With an immense effort I manage not to flinch when he places a hand on my chest. The shadows binding my arms fall away. A feeling of calm settles over me, despite the black veins criss-crossing Sherlock's face and the fact I can feel my bones shifting and crunching back together. To my surprise it does not hurt at all. I have to admit that I feel a little guilty for misjudging Sherlock so badly. I should have known someone with the power to break would also have the power to heal.

Maybe there is some way of bringing the old Sherlock back. Slowly I reach up to cup his cheek, forcing him to look into my eyes. "Sherlock, I know your there. Come back to me."

To my joy and relief I see a spark in the blank, black eyes as Sherlock sucks in a heaving breath. Even as I watch the ugly looking veins vanish and he once more becomes the person I know so well. For a moment there I actually thought I had lost him. Still we are not of the woods yet. There is a peculiar tension in the air and I feel Sherlock shaking beneath my hand. He is balancing on the edge and I sense it will it take much to push him over the edge. I am going to have to be careful. "Sherlock." I do not know what else to say. Apparently I do not need to say anything.

Leaning forward Sherlock lightly kisses me on the forehead. "I'm alright John, I'm alright." Wrapping his arms around me he holds me tightly, like he is never going to let me go (not that I'm complaining). "Come on, let's go home." He murmurs quietly, unfurling his wings and stretching them out behind him. Right at this moment I do not care how Sherlock will get us out of here. We are together again and that is all that matters; everything is right with the world again.

Nightmare knew straight away something had gone terribly wrong in the little cell from the moment he could no longer feel the shadows he had sent. Losing his shadows was like having a piece of his body torn away. Baring silver fangs in a snarl of rage Nightmare swept along the corridor, his serpentine coils sending Engifted flying when they failed to get out of the way in time. Pausing briefly outside the room he probed for life signs and was not surprised when nothing came back. Apparently his suspicions about Sherlock were correct... Nightmare should have known better than to underestimate him. Swearing beneath his breath the Engifted lashed out at the stone wall, his long talons easily tearing into the hard material before he stared at the door and snarled. Bonebreaker was going to pay dearly for this mistake.

Phasing through the door Nightmare paused when his red eyes settled on Bonebreaker's limp, and broken looking form. He sighed and shook his head. It looked like the Engifted had already suffered when you noticed the blood staining the floor around him. Nightmare still however felt some regret he was unable to punish Bonebreaker himself. Sadness flashed across the serpentine features quick enough that you would be forgiven for missing it. He and Bonebreaker had known each other for years and now Nightmare was just that little more alone... chiding himself for being so sentimental the Engifted forcibly shoved the thoughts to one side and instead turned his concentration to the problem at hand. Somewhere, out in the city of London, Sherlock was laughing at Nightmare and gloating about how, despite everything Nightmare had done to hurt him, he was able to heal any wound you inflicted on him. And Nightmare should know because he had been incredibly creative...

Nightmare let out a quiet groan. This whole thing was rapidly becoming one gigantic mess. Normally it was so much easier to force Engifted to join him. The detective was proving to be a hard nut to crack... not that Nightmare was going to give up that easily. Especially now Nightmare knew Sherlock had a weakness that he could exploit. A dark smile turned up the corners of his jaws and he rubbed his claws together in anticipation. No, all was not lost quite yet. All needed to do was get his claws on somebody the detective cared about. After that, he was certain, Sherlock would do anything he was asked. Victory was still within his grasp and Nightmare planned to take it. After all he knew exactly where to go thanks to his time spent flicking through Sherlock's memories...

Back in 221B Baker Street Mycroft and Greg were anxiously pacing around the living room when everything was suddenly plunged into darkness. Instantly Mycroft sent out tendrils of ice but they were quickly shattered beneath an onslaught of black shadows that seemed to come out of nowhere. Before Mycroft could even consider another attack he felt something wrap around his neck and tighten, cutting off his oxygen. From somewhere close by he heard Greg cry out in surprise, a cry that turned into a muffled gasp. Cursing loudly Mycroft struggled, trying to coat the shadows around his neck with ice. To his horror the ice melted as quickly as it formed. He knew then exactly who was behind the attack.

"Nightmare." He choked out in a barely audible voice, "why are you doing this?"

In answer the shadows tightened further, causing dark spots to form on the edges of Mycroft's vision. "It's nothing personal Iceman. I just have a score I wish to settle with your little brother."

If he had not been concerned about being imminently strangled to death Mycroft would almost certainly have rolled his eyes. Instead he barely had time to form a coherant thought of 'oh for God's sake not again' and 'please let Greg be ok' before he surrendered to the darkness.


	8. An Unexpected Ally- Sherlock

After so long away it feels a little unreal to once be standing in my home and for a moment all I can is stand while my brain tries to process the change in circumstances. I am no longer Nightmare's prisoner but escaping has probably cost me dearly. As well as another uncontrollable surge of power that resulted in the death of a fellow Engifted, John is refusing to look me in the eye. Since we arrived back he has very deliberately been avoiding having anything to do with me. Though he has willingly accepted my newfound powers I think being tortured has shaken him. It's time like this I wish I could heal mental scars as well as physical scars. Finally, unable to take the silence any longer, I reach out and place a hand on John's shoulder. He stops and glances quickly up at me before returning his gaze to the floor. My heart sinks a little at this. "John, what's wrong?" I ask him softly.

There is a long silence before he finally replies and I find myself growing impatient to find out the answer. Then John lets out a heavy sigh, "it's daft but I thought somebody would be here. Greg or Mycroft, Mrs Hudson maybe. Somebody who cares the two of us went missing."

He does has a point. Surely somebody must have noticed that he was missing as well. In fact I am genuinely surprised Lestrade is not still searching this place from top to bottom for any clues as to what happened. Not that there will be any clues to find of course except feathers and they could belong to a great number of known Engifted. I frown, deep in thought, and turn towards the window. As I do so my gaze falls upon the wall graced by the yellow smiley face and I feel the blood in my veins turn to ice. John must see the blood drain from my face because he looks to see what has caused me such distress.

"Oh Jesus no!" He cries, squeezing his eyes tightly shut and burying his head in his hands. "Please tell me I'm seeing things."

I let out a heavy sigh and reach up to run my fingers across the dark lines cut into a wall by sharp talons, lines spelling out Mycroft and Greg's names. On the floor is a small pile of oily black feathers that ripple slightly whenever the light catches them. A shiver runs down my spine and I lightly rest a hand on John's shoulder. "No, you are not seeing things John." He jumps slightly when I curse loudly and pace over to the window where I stand and gaze out across Baker Street. I should have known this would happen! I should have guessed! Of course Nightmare would never let me go so easily... "No! Don't touch those!"

John pauses in the act of reaching out to touch the feathers and looks up at me with a frown on his face. When he sees I am deadly serious he sits back on the floor and gazes up at me with a critical expression. Then his face softens. "What do we do now?" He asks, deliberately not looking at the marks on the wall.

I feel a momentary wave of sorrow at what I am going to have to do and then shove the thought aside, burying any doubts down deep. With a small groan I run a hand through my black curls. "There is no 'we' in this John. You can't come with me." I hold up a hand before he can protest and carry on talking, " Against Nightmare you don't stand a chance. I can at least hold my own."

John looks at me incredulously but remains silent. Odd, because usually he finds it hard to keep his mouth shut. I can't help but wonder what he might be planning. Much as this pains me I have no choice. I will not allow him to get hurt again. I stretch out my hand to John in a gesture to help him up. With a smile he takes my hand and I feel a small pang as I use my powers to lower his blood pressure. For a moment there is a small spark of shock in his eyes at my betrayal. Then his eyes close and his breathing slows. Gently I place a delicate kiss on his forehead and then lower him to the floor. He looks so peaceful when he sleeps. It takes a considerable effort to step away, shake out the cramps in my wings and activate the remaining teleportation power I took from Chronos earlier. With one final glance back at my friend I steel myself and vanish from Baker Street. Please, please let John be ok.

I step forward into complete darkness and freeze, expecting an attack to come at any moment. If I was Nightmare that is actually what I would so do. Around me the darkness shifts and moves like a living force, tendrils of it brushing against me. I can feel Nightmare within them and know that he is close. I am unable to sense Lestrade and Mycroft but I know there must be here somewhere. Nightmare will be keeping them close. Taking a deep breath I close my eyes and reach deep down to the well of power I have so far been ignoring. It reaches gleefully towards me and I feel a slight click in my mind as it latches on. With a single blink I stop being Sherlock and, for the first time, truely become an Engifted.

Stretching out a hand in front of me I wave the darkness away. It disappears like smoke, revealing the scene before me like a curtain rising on a stage show. Nightmare has made his base in what is plainly an abandoned warehouse with stained concrete walls and cracked glass littering the floor. How disappointing. I was expecting something much grander, something much more fitting for an Engifted like him. Around the edge of the huge space is a shimmering forcefield of darkness and the corner of my mouth quirks up in a sneer. Pathetic. Why I could break it easily if I wanted to. I walk forward a few steps, the sound echoing in the emptiness. "Come on Nightmare. Hiding does not at all suit you."

A slight movement coming from behind me and I spin round in preparation for attack. To my surprise Mycroft stands in front of me cradling a bleeding arm. His eyes widen and he stares at me in shock. "Sherlock?" He whispers in disbelief. Behind him his wings trail simply on the ground, the blue ice like feathers matted with dirt. "What happened to you?" I go to rush to his side but Mycroft suddenly looks scared and stumbles back. "How do I know you're really my brother?"

Considering what Nightmare is capable of he does have a point. I watch him for a moment, wondering myself if this is really my brother. Finally I make a decision. If he can't answer this question then he almost certainly is an illusion and even if he can answer it there is still the risk Nightmare could have read his mind. Here goes nothing. "What did I want to be when was younger?"

For a brief moment he seems surprised but then a smug grin spreads across his face. "Why, a detective of course." He answers, so convinced he has gotten it right.

I shake my head. "Dear me Nightmare. Couldn't you at least have tried to do some research?" Yes, ok, I had been expecting better from this powerful enemy. After all he had managed to keep me imprisoned for several months...not that that will ever happened again now I have access to my full powers. Stretching out a hand I forcibly dispel the illusion Nightmare has woven around himself with the wave of my hand. With some reluctance a humanoid form dripping with shadow appears, his black wings gleaming faintly in the sunlight streaming through the broken windows. He does not look at all happy to see me. "Where is my brother Nightmare?" I demand, my voice shaking as I struggle to control my power.

"He's safe for the moment." Nightmare taunts, crossing his arms across his chest and glaring at me. "You're spoiling the game...how did you find me so quickly?" He says in a voice that makes him sound like a petulant child. I realise then I am going to have to treat carefully around this Engifted. There is no telling what he might do.

I summon my most casual voice, "Oh it was easy. I had a little help from Chronos." Because I am watching Nightmare so intently I see the moment his eyes widen with an emotion that could almost be shock. Pretending, for the moment at least, I haven't seen it I carry on talking. "You know Nightmare, you've been incredibly rude."

He frowns in confusion at this. "Oh really? And how did you work that out Mr Holmes?" He asks with a definite undertone of uncertainty in his voice. Tipping his head to one side Nightmare regards me with curiosity, obviously trying to work out what game I might be playing. What a shock he'll get when he finds out the truth.

I allow myself a small smile before I reply and make a small mocking bow. "You didn't ask me my Engifted name." (After going through the transformation, maybe a week or a few months later, an Engifted will suddenly discover exactly who they are. I have recently only just worked out who I now am). I straighten and look Nightmare directly in the eyes, not flinching when the red pupil burns into mine. "Greetings Nightmare, my name is Thanatos." I say, waiting to see what Nightmare's reaction will be.

With a gasp of horror Nightmare stumbles back a step, shaking his head in disbelief as he does so. "Not possible. Thanatos is supposed to be a myth." Oh bless him, he sounds so frightened. "The Elite don't actually exist, they're fairy tales told to young Engifted to teach them about the world." He tries to sound confident and fails miserably. But then a small gleam ignites in his red eyes. Faster than the eye can see Nightmare flings a handful of razor sharp shadows in my direction. I do nothing to move out of their way and the shadows slice into me; ripping muscles, shattering bone and tearing into internal organs. I don't even feel it and continue to stare without emotion at a now terrified Nightmare. "Impossible, that should have killed you." He stutters, drawing the shadows back into the darkness writhing over his skin.

I glance down at the mess he had made of my body and imagine it whole again. Immediately it is once more undamaged and I look up to smile at Nightmare, who is beginning to look like he might have a heart attack at any moment. Clearing my throat I take a step forward. Nightmare stumbles back in response. "And I ask you again Nightmare- where are Greg and Mycroft? If you have harmed them I will not hesitate to kill you." By now he knows my threat is not an idle one.

Raising a shaking hand Nightmare makes a gesture in the air, summoning shadows that swirl for a moment and then sweep away to reveal a scared looking Greg and Mycroft lying on the floor with their hands bound. Both of them stare up at me in a mix of wide eyed shock and relief that I have arrived to save them. My brother sports a nasty looking head wound and I kneel down beside him, lightly placing a hand on his shoulder. "It'll be ok now Brother." I reassure him before sending some of my power into his wound, easily knitting it back together. He winced slightly and raises his hand to probe the faint scar that has taken the place of the injury. Then he smiles at me. This small gesture, something I haven't seen from Mycroft for many years, is enough to chase Thanatos away and allow Sherlock to come back. I suck in a deep breath and blink a few times in an attempt to orientate myself. I turn to Lestrade who also gives me a smile. "Greg, I'm sorry you got dragged into..." The rest of my sentence ends in a muffled gasp of pain and shock.

"Well this is all very touching, but frankly it's a little too sentimental for my taste." Nightmare says with a sneer in his voice as he twists the shadows shards embedded in my back. Back in a slightly more mortal form it hurts like hell and I fall to my knees, coughing up blood from shredded lungs. I hear Mycroft calling out my name but I have no strength to raise my head and reassure him that, somehow, everything will be ok. Desperate I imagine Mycroft and Greg safely back at Baker Street, hoping I have some of Chronos' borrowed power. When I hear Nightmare's scream of rage I know it has worked and barely care when I feel another shadow tear into me. "You are proving to be incredibly annoying Mr Holmes. If you won't join me and I can't kill you then I'll have to find something else to do with you."

With a groan I squeeze my eyes shut. Where the hell is Thanatos when I need him?! I can't even reach the full extent of my power! Let alone use it! What's the point of being an Engifted if your powers only work half of the time?! I know I'm being hysterical but it's the only thing keeping me sane. If I calm down I'll start thinking about John and the fact I'll never get to see him again. From far away I am aware of Nightmare walking towards me and muttering something about stuffing and mounting but a peculiar fuzziness has come over my thoughts.

I try to stand, to do something but a wave of weakness washes over me, whispering that wouldn't it be pleasant to close my eyes and sleep off my injuries. Maybe that won't be so bad. Who knows, when I wake up, maybe everything will be better...

Suddenly a familiar lilting voice comes from somewhere nearby. Despite the huge effort it takes I force myself to open my eyes and start in surprise when I see the person standing over me. I frown in confusion. What on earth is he doing here? Not that I get to dwell on the thought for long. Exhausted by my recent usage of my dull power and still shaken from my months of torture at Nightmare's hand my body finally decides it has had enough. 'Well' I think as I drift into unconsciousness, "this is an interesting development."


	9. Return to Baker Street- John

It seems a little pointless to say that I am more than slightly shocked when Mycroft and Greg appear in the centre of the living room without warning. Leaping up from my chair my phone drops from my hand. Since Sherlock left me I have desperately been trying to get through to somebody but nobody has answered, it's almost as though my calls are being deliberately re-directed. I strongly suspect Nightmare might have something to do with it. Yes I am angry he dared to put me to sleep. If I ever see him again he and I will be having words.

I rush over and drop to my knees, fumbling to untie the tight knots on the rope binding Greg's wrists. "Oh God, I was so worried!" I cry, not caring if I sound a little frantic. "What on earth happened to the two of you?" I pause for a moment and glance over my shoulder, realising with a jolt who is missing from this picture "I thought Sherlock came to rescue you."

Because I am busying myself with Mycroft's bindings I miss the look that must obviously pass between them. When I look up again Greg is trying to massawwwge life back into his wrists, both of them marked with raw looking red lines where the rough rope has scraped the skin away. "He did come and he did rescue us but..." Greg's voice trails away and he stares hard at the floor.

Luckily Mycroft steps in to finish off the sentence. "There was an unforseen complication." His voice is heavy and his wings hang simply. "I don't know if Sherlock will be coming back." Greg lets out a small sob and Mycroft wraps an arm around his shoulder, pulling him against him so Greg can bury his head in Mycroft's chest. I can't help but feel a pang of jealously at the sight. After this is all over I am never letting Sherlock out of my sight ever again.

For now though all I can do is hope that Mycroft is exaggerating. "What do you mean he isn't coming back?! Of course he's coming back! He has too!" My voice rises and breaks, shaking uncontrollably as I struggle to keep a wave of panic at bay. Oh God, oh God. I know I shouldn't have let Sherlock leave, that I should have tried to stop him...Though against his new powers I don't know what I possibly could have done.

Briefly Mycroft pauses in the act of gently stroking Greg's hair and looks up at me with sorrow in his ice blue eyes. "Nightmare hurt him badly, I don't know if he could come back from that. I think if he could have gotten away he would already be here." He says, sounding lost and a little afraid. I have never seen Mycroft like this, so broken and...sentimental, and I have to admit that it scares me a little to see beneath his usually perfectly calm exterior. It makes everything seem just that little bit more unreal.

I shake my head rapidly, refusing to believe what Mycroft is hinting at. "No. Sherlock will be fine. He's been in worse situations than this and managed to escape." Neither Mycroft or Greg look convinced by what I am saying but at least they have the decency not to say anything. My self control is alarmingly shaking at the moment and the tiniest push is going to send me over the edge. "He'll be fine, he has to be." My voice lacks conviction. Deep down I know Mycroft is right. Sherlock should be back here by now. The only reason he isn't... nope. Nope. Not going down that road.

At the moment I become aware of a faint tremor running through the floor beneath my feet. I frown. What could be causing it? I glance over at Mycroft to see if he has noticed it too. Apparently he has because he returns my frown and disentangle himself carefully from Greg who barely seems to notice. Poor Greg, out of all of us he is the only one of us who was dragged unwillingly into this life. At least Mycroft and I had a choice; if we want to we could walk away. Not that either of us ever would. "Mycroft, what is that?"

The tremors spread to the walls, shaking the glass in the mirrors and sending things tumbling off the masterpiece with quiet thuds. In answer Mycroft let's out a muffled groan. "Oh fantastic, of course he has to be involved." He mutters to himself, sounding thoroughly annoyed. "He isn't even supposed to be in London." Reaching out he grabs Greg and myself by the shoulders and drags us back into a corner before settling down to watch the termors that are now focused on one specific patch of wall over by the door. Then Mycroft drops into a protective crouch and stretches out his wings, the temperature in the room dropping as he summons his powers in preparation for an attack.

I tense, wondering who is about to step through the human sized patch now rippling on the wall. It can only be an Engifted, no one else could have power like that. As the three of us watch a human hand appears through the wall, emerging through it as though the brick is nothing but liquid. What the hell?! From the corner of my eye I see a serious expression flash briefly across Mycroft's face. Oh dear, he really doesn't look happy about whoever is about to visit us. Seconds later his eyes glow a brilliant blue and a trail of ice crystals creep across the floor towards the wall where they lay in wait for our visitor to step through. When they do my mouth falls open in shock and the ice leaps up, fastening around the visitor's feet and freezing them in place.

Trapped half in and half out of the wall Jim Moriarty glares at the people assembled before him and gives me an especially toxic stare. "Really?" He demands, his lilting voice irritated, "This is how your treating visitors now? Last time I came here Sherly offered me a cup of tea...I'm disappointed in you John." He shakes his head and tugs against the ice preventing him from stepping from the wall. "And I came here with good news as well. I suppose that you don't want to hear it." He sniffs and crosses his arms. "Oh well, I'll just take him back to Nightmare then."

How fantastic! Moriarty is an Engifted! Apparently everyone but me, Greg and Mrs Hudson are not entirely human! You know I preferred the old days before I knew more than one Engifted. Mycroft was enough for me frankly. Just when I though I could not be surprised anymore!

Still in a protective crouch Mycroft snorts loudly and gives Moriarty his best glare. "And what exactly is this good news you're so eager to tell us." He asks, sounding sceptical. Like me he has not had much cause to trust Moriarty. He has tried to kill Sherlock on more than one occasion after all. "If you plan to attack I have to warn you that you won't win against me." To back up this statement the temperature of the room plummets further and Greg and I begin to shiver violently. Hopefully Mycroft will remember we are fragile compared to him before we freeze to death.

Moriarty rolls his eyes at the words, apparently unmoved by Mycroft's display of power. "Really you think I would be that stupid? I have long since learnt my lesson. Now if you would just release me I can reveal my news to you." Mycroft stands and crosses his arms, giving Moriarty a level stare. Moriarty let's out a sigh. "Fine, be like that then. It's only going to make this all the harder. He isn't going to be much help to me." At this I let out an involuntary gasp. Could he be referring to who I think he is? Moriarty gives me a sly smile. "I think John knows exactly who I'm referring to." He says with a wink. Then he leans into the wall as far as the ice allows him and starts to awkwardly haul something heavy through the liquid surface. It does not take long for me to know for certain I was right. There is the familiar messy black curls and lanky frame...I swallow hard. He is horribly limp and my heart contracts. Please, dear God, let him be ok!

I go to rush forward to offer Moriarty help but Mycroft flings out his arm, catching me full in the chest and knocking the breath from my body. I crumble to the ground and gasp for air. Greg rushes over and lightly rubs my back, looking questionly at Mycroft as he does so. Mycroft however only has eyes for Moriarty. "What the hell did you do to my brother?" He demands, his deep voice full of malice. "And I though I told you to stay the hell out of London!" God help Moriarty if he has hurt Sherlock.

Despite the ice creeping further up his body Moriarty somehow finds the audacity to shrug and give Mycroft a grin. "Oh don't worry I haven't forgotten. I only returned because there were rumours Sherly had developed his powers at last." He pauses and looks thoughtful for a moment, " Rumours I see to be true." He continues as he finally manages to get all of Sherlock out of the wall and drops him on the floor with a loud thump that makes me wince.

Then the blood in my veins turns to ice when I notice the state Sherlock is in. He is covered with blood with more oozing from nasty gashes and tears in his skin. I swallow hard, fighting the urge to throw up. I swear I can actually see a gleam of bone from the wound in his chest. Tears well up and threaten to spill over. Oh Sherlock, if you'd only stayed with me none of this would have happened. God only knows how he is still alive.

Mycroft bares his teeth in a snarl loud enough to make even Greg, who has lived with him for years, flinch slightly. "What have you done to Sherlock?" He repeats, his voice full of the promise of violence. I have never seen beneath Mycroft's calm exterior before and I have to admit that it's a little frightening.

Even Moriarty is a little taken aback, though he hastily composes himself and once more gives all of us a sly grin. "I haven't done anything. In fact I saved Sherly from what would have been a fate worse than death. No, the one who did this to him was," Here Moriarty deliberately pauses for dramatic effect, "Nightmare." He finishes with a flourish.

Mycroft rolls his eyes and lets a snort. "Well I know that, Moriarty. I was there when Nightmare first attacked him. What I want to know is why you were there?" His face hardens and the temperature in the room drops further. By now I can actually see my breath being expelled in great white clouds. If Mycroft keeps this up for much longer Greg and I are going to freeze to death and right now there is no way Mycroft will listen to reason. "You're working for Nightmare. You must be to have been there."

For the first time since I have met him Moriarty actually looks afraid, his face draining of colour. "Why would I work for that egotistical maniac?" He asks, sounding hurt Mycroft would even entertain such a notion. "You know me. I'm more of a lone Engifted." Here Moriarty pauses and shifts uncomfortably. "Anyway I couldn't have hurt Sherly even if I had wanted to. Apparently your Brother is unkillable."

I shake my head, refusing to believe what I am hearing. Nobody can be unkillable, not even an Engifted. It goes against the basic rules of the natural world. "That's impossible. Sure he has healing abilities but I'm certain he still has limits." I protest, trying to ignore the thoughtful expression in Mycroft's face. There is obviously something he knows about this, something Greg and I, being mere Humans, are not privy too. "You must be mistaken in what you saw, Moriarty." I say, my voice lacking conviction.

Moriarty goes to reply but is interrupted by a familiar deep voice that makes my pulse begin to race. Un-noticed by all of us Sherlock has brushed himself off and is now leaning against the wall with no sign of his previous injuries. I remember then just how quickly he had healed the work of Bonebreaker and I can't help but wonder about the Engifted he might have become. Can it be possible he really is as powerful as Moriarty is suggesting? "Oh no Groundwalker was not mistaken." Sherlock's voice is a little different to how I remember it. There is a definate undertone of darkness that wasn't there before. Bending at the waist he gives us an elegant bow and when he straightens up his eyes are a deep and pupiless black. "Allow me to introduce myself to you all." He says with a grin that shows off the points of razor sharp teeth, "My name is Thanatos."

Though the name means nothing to me both Moriarty and Mycroft let out gasps of shock. "What? But that's impossible." Moriarty stammers in disbelief, shaking his head. "You can't be."

Sherlock/ Thanatos looks a little taken aback by this and he crosses his arms, frowning at Moriarty as he does so. "And why is that so impossible? Or are you simply unable to see it with your simple little imagination?" He asks with a gleam in his black eyes. Ouch, even for Sherlock that was brutal.

Moriarty bristles, his brown dirt covered wings trembling with annoyance. "Because Thanatos is the last and most deadly of the Elite. I hardly think that you are the best person for the job." Interesting, I am definitely able to detect a hint of jealously in Moriarty's voice. "Mycroft, help me out here. You know your little brother better than anyone."

If the shock on Mycroft's face is anything to go by I don't think he'll be of much use anytime soon. There is a darkness in Sherlock's eyes, a hardness I have never seen before. It is as though he has completely forgotten what happened while we were both prisoners of Nightmare... My cheeks heat and I am aware of Moriarty shooting me a look of curiosity. For now I choose to ignore because that is not information I am willing to share right now. I'm sure Moriarty would only put it to some devious use for his own benefit. "Sherlock? Are you alright?" I ask, afraid of what the answer will be.

There is a long silence and I can not hope but begin to worry. I know people change when they go through the transformation into an Engifted but I had in my wildest dreams imagined I could risk losing Sherlock for good. Finally there is a heavy sigh and Sherlock's black wings lift slightly, the lace like feathers catching the light and gleaming like an oil spill on a summer's day. "I've never felt better John." Sherlock's voice is oddly emotionless and I feel a shiver run down my spine. "Now if you will excuse me I have some business to attend to."

This catches Mycroft attention and he finally makes a comment. "What business Sherlock? You can't leave again. I was going frantic when I discovered you missing." Here he briefly makes eye contact with Greg and the two of them share a look. Hmmm I'll have to ask him about that later. "I forbid you to leave." He says, his voice shaking and badly lacking in conviction.

Sherlock gives him a look capable of freezing even the hottest of fires. "Really Brother you forbid me?" There is dark amusement in his voice and I know with a horrible certainty that Mycroft has crossed a line. "And how exactly were you planning on stopping me? Your power after all is nothing compared to mine." Then he raises one hand and clicks his fingers with a sharp sounding snap.

Almost immediately a feeling of tiredness sweeps over me and I am unable to stop a yawn from escaping. Beside me there are quiet thumps as Mycroft and Moriarty collapse to the ground, both of them asleep before they do anything. I feel a brief flash of annoyance he has done this to me again and then the darkness reaches up and drags me under.

God only knows how much time has passed when I finally blink my eyes open. Because it is now dark I can safely assume it has been several hours since Sherlock put us to sleep. Just like last time I am left with a horrible disorientated feeling and a head that feels as though it has been stuffed with cotton wool. The others have all come around as well and Mycroft has his arms around Greg in what looks like a hug. Moriarty just looks paused off.

"What the hell was that?" He demands, the floor beneath his feet rippling slightly. "What the hell did the detective do to us?"

Mycroft sighs and rests his head on Greg's shoulder. "What my little brother did Moriarty was lower our heart rates enough to put us into a state of deep sleep." He answers, looking troubled at everything that has happened.

I for one am still struggling to come to terms with Sherlock's new identity. Though I do not know anything about the Elite I do remember reading somewhere that Thanatos was the Greek god of death (yes when your around Sherlock long enough you pick up some random bits of information). Somehow I have the feeling nothing good will come out of any of this. Seconds later I am unfortunately proved right.

Unannounced and uninvited Nightmare appears without warning in the centre of the room with a gleam in his red eyes. Mycroft and Greg both let out cries while Moriarty merely rolls his eyes in apparent exasperation. And just when I thought all of this was behind us. "What do you want this time?" I ask, even as tendrils of shadows reach out for the four of us.

Nightmare appears taken aback by my attitude but quickly composes himself, arranging his face into a calm, disinterested expression. "I have a little problem, an Engifted who keeps getting in my way. I think he is known to you." The tendrils cover the room and I feel weakness wash over me. Seriously, I am being kidnapped- again! This is rapidly beginning to grow tiresome. "Don't worry." Nightmare says in a voice that is not at all reassuring. "Once Sherlock Holmes is dead I'll let you all go free. You can all join him in the silence of death." After that everything goes mercifully black and I know no more.


	10. The Battle Begins

Ironically the Elite Engifted were actually discussing Sherlock when he stepped out of thin air into the centre of their circle. For a moment there was a shocked silence because all present knew it was impossible for anyone outside of the Elite's to enter the little sphere Celeste had managed to block off from the rest of existence...so how exactly had Sherlock Holmes managed it? All of them regarded him carefully, trying to work out what it was that made the detective so special. It was Chronos who finally worked it out. After having actually met Sherlock before he was captured by Nightmare he could clearly see that there was something different about him, a something that elevated him from just being a simple Engifted. The funny thing was Chronos had seen this coming but with the threat Nightmare posed to the entire existence of Engifted (think apocalyptic type threat) he had somehow forgotten to tell any of the others. Feeling a little sheepish about his absentmindedness Chronos stepped forward, intending to be the first of the Elite's to welcome their newest member. He froze when Sherlock turned emotionless black eyes to him and swallowwed hard. Not even his vision of the future had been enough to prepare him for the true horror of Thanatos, the Engifted who was the physical incarnation of death.

"Mr Holmes..." Chronos hesitated when Sherlock stared at him blankly. Oh yes he should have remembered. Once an Elite discovered their true identity they were no longer the person they once were. Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, was long gone. He bowed his head and gestured for the others to do the same. Apart from Celeste, the only Elite who could claim to be an equal of Thanatos, they did so. "Apologies Thanatos, I will make sure to use your true name from now on. If you do not mind me asking...how exactly did you unlock your full powers?" Chronos of course already knew but had to ask this question so the others would no longer be in the dark. Sometimes being able to see the future could be a tad inconvient.

There was silence for a moment before Sherlock (or Thanatos as Chronos supposed he should refer to him to) began to speak. With a sigh the new Elite ran a claw tipped hand through his black curls, making them even messier than they were before. "I went after Nightmare. He had taken two people, an Engifted and a human, captive. There was a fight, Nightmare injured me.." Thanatos paused mid-sentence and brieftly rested a hand against his chest, remembering the sensation of the shadows tearing his lungs apart. Even though he knew that would never have been able to kill him the Elite felt a shiver run down his spine. With a quiet growl of annoyance at these human emotions that kept creeping in, he roughly shoved them deep into a corner of his mind. Such things were not needed any more after all. "and that was when I felt it. A great surge of power that swept through me." He stopped talking then, seeing no reason for mentioning Groudwalker who had not really been needed after all. Thanatos was sure he could have easily defeated Nightmare once he was at full strength. Turning his attention to Celeste he was surprised to see a thin glowing thread connecting the two of them. When he reached out to touch it he felt a flash of what could only be the other Elite's thoughts. He frowned. "What is that?" He asked, fixing Celeste with a look.

Celeste smiled and spun slowly in a circle, her gossamer wings gleaming brightly in the beautiful light shining down from some indeterminate source. "I'm the living personification of life and you are the living personification of death. Of course we are connected." She paused, her head tipped to one side. "The others are connected in their own way as well with each gaining some degree of power from the other." As she said this Mariner and Zephyr glared at one enough and Thanatos couldn't help but smile. There may be a connection but apparently some of the Elite's weren't overly thrilled about it. "Can I just say Thanatos that it is a pleasure you have finally joined us."

Thanatos wasn't sure he could say the same. Personally he would rather be anywhere but here. There was still so much he had to discover about his powers. Still, until he could figure out more about the Elite's and their intentions, it didn't hurt to hang around and find out more. He bowed his head at the other Elite standing behind Celeste. "Thank you...now I have met Chronos but I don't know who any of the rest of you are."

The others quickly introduced themselves. Mariner and Zephyr you are already aware of but the last two members are still unknown to you. The one with the golden wings that shimmer like fire is Phoenix, the fire Engifted, and the one with the rather dirty wings covered with small blades of grass is Terra. Together the seven of them cover most of the universe, making them the most powerful Engifted in existence. Up until now however they had always been missing a member. The universe would only manifest those of the Elite it felt was needed. Right now with the threat posed by Nightmare the seven of them were finally reunited again. It was not something the universe did lightly. The Elite Engifted were dangerous in their own right and were nigh on impossible to kill. Celeste felt a shiver run down her spine. Even her power was nothing beside Thanatos and she wasn't at all comfortable with the feeling. Still they all needed to work together, she could worry about the future after Nightmare was no longer a threat.

With his head to one side Thanatos watched her intently, watching with interest the thoughts that were playing across her face. Though he was unable to read her mind he could interpret her body language with hardly any effort. He crossed his arms and stroked the side of his face. "So what do we do now? I'm assuming you called us all here for a reason." While talking to John and Mycroft he had felt the tug of Celeste sending out a summons. It was basically the only reason he was here right now.

Celeste was beginning to miss the old Sherlock Holmes, the human with the trace of Engifted within him. Sometimes the universe could be cruel. Engifted only existed to fill in gaps where mysthical help was needed. Most of the time only two Elite's existed to look over a handful of Engifted. The amount around at the moment was unprecedented. The only other time it had happened had been during the world wars. She sighed when Thanatos began to look impatient. "Now we go after Nightmare. The path he is on now can only lead to death and destruction with Engifted kind being at war with humans. That is an outcome I simply will not allow. The summons you felt Thanatos has alerted every Engifted out there. When we make a move on Nightmare they will be ready."

"Impressive, so we're letting the weaker Engifted get killed first and then we sweep in and take all the glory." A slow smile spread across his face when he saw the horror in Celeste's eyes. Throwing back his head he can to laugh. "Dear me I'm only joking." He spread out his arms and gazed round at the little group surrounding him. "So, when do we leave?"

Chronos stepped forward, a grim expression on his face and a faraway look in his golden eyes. There was sadness there too. He already knew exactly how the fight was going to play out and couldn't help but pity Thanatos/Sherlock for what was going to happen. He had already managed to lose so much. "We leave now. Everything is ready and Nightmare has no idea we're coming. It's too perfect an opportunity to waste."

After that events moved quickly and before Thanatos could draw another breath he found himself back inside the abandoned warehouse where he had initially had his confrontation with Nightmare. He was still slightly ashamed to remember just how badly things had gone. As well as the Elite's every Engifted currently in London was there. Towards the back Thanatos could just about make out Groundwalker, who nodded respectfully when he noticed the Elite watching him. Thanatos returned it before turning his full attention to the scene in from of them because despite Chronos' reassurance Nightmare had somehow known they were coming. He was standing there surrounded by writhing shadows and was resting claw tipped hands on the shoulders of two people that were familiar to the once Sherlock Holmes. Now, though he recognised them of course, he felt nothing as he gazed upon them- despite the nasty slashes cut across their chests. Thanatos blinked and swallowed hard, his vision momentarily flickering. What were John and Mycroft doing here?

A cloud of anger radiated from Celeste as she took a step forward, the rest of the Elite fanning out behind her. "What is the meaning of this Nightmare? Are you really this cowardly that you would hide behind others?" She said, her musical voice low and threatening. She glanced over her shoulder at Mariner and nodded slightly, a gesture that was returned in what was almost certainly some form of signal.

Nightmare smirked and didn't reply. Instead he clenched the claws of one hand, sending a stream of shadows oozing down through the gashes in John Watson's skin. Almost immediately there was a scream of pain, the sound cutting through Thanatos and uncovering that which he had been trying to keep hidden. With a single blink the Elite vanished to be replaced by Sherlock, who tugged urgently on Celeste's sleeve as John convusled violently and continued to scream. "Please! We have to help them!" He pleaded desperately, unsure how to help his friend. He went to take a step forward but stopped when he felt a cold, wet hand grip his shoulder.

"Get ready." Mariner murmured. "When we go for Nightmare that will be your opportunity to rescue your friends." She told him, looking into eyes that were a deep ocean blue once more. Another problem with being an Elite. Because your powers were so unpredictable it was very easy to lose yourself and forget your human side. All Mariner could do was pray that it didn't happen to Sherlock. He cared about people and it would be such a shame to have to subdue him once all this was over.

After a long moment Sherlock nodded, taking a deep breath to settle the panic currently tearing through him. If anything happened to John or Mycroft it would be all his fault and Sherlock did not know if he could live with himself if anything should happen. "I'm ready." He said, half unfurling his wings and crouching, preparing himself to move quickly when the Elite's began their attack.

There was a sneer on Nightmare's features as he regarded those before him. Clenching a clawed hand he sent a storm of shadows shooting towards the assembled Engifted. There was no point going for the Elite; there was no way he would be able to hurt them...the ordinary Engifted on the other hand...why he would be able to tear them apart with ease. However, before the shadows could do their work, Mariner stepped forward and opened her wings, a flash of intense blue light filling the warehouse. When it faded an enormous wave of water towered above Nightmare, curling over and threatening to break at any moment. There were cries of fear from the Engifted, some of them having never seen the power of the Elite before

"Do not panic. My power can not hurt you." Mariner reassured them, her voice a little distant as she concentrated her full attention on Nightmare. Though they still looked a little unsure the Engifted held their ground and readied their powers, knowing that before too long they would be called upon to act. "Mr Holmes... Thanatos...time for you to act I think."

Sherlock did not need to be told twice. Even as the wave swept down to engulf Nightmare he leapt forward, his wings snapping open to their full extent and propelling him forward at greater speed. Reaching out he grabbed whatever he could of Mycroft and John and carried on going, taking them far away from Nightmare's grip. From behind him there was a roar and the floor shook beneath the sheer force of the wave pounding down on top of Nightmare. There was a muffled shriek but it was quickly drowned out by the sound of hundreds of Engifted unleashing their powers all at once. Without thinking Sherlock touched down, hugged his family tightly to his chest and threw up a shield to stop any rogue strikes from getting through. In a battle situation it was very easy to get struck down by friendly fire.

"Sherlock." John's voice was weak but Sherlock could only think it was one of the best things he had heard in a long time. He tightened his grip, trying to drown out the fear and shock of having almost lost him for a second time. When they returned to Baker Street Sherlock was never letting him out of his sight ever again.

Leaning down he pressed a gentle kiss to John's forehead. "Don't try and talk." Sherlock said gently, laying a hand on John's chest so he assessed the damage inflicted by Nightmare. He winced at just how extensive it was and vowed there and then that Nightmare was going to pay for what he had done. Quickly he channelled his power into him before turning his attention to Mycroft. In an attempt to protect himself there was a faint edging of frost around the wounds on his chest. Sherlock swallowed hard. "Brother?" He asked a little hesitantly, scared by how pale Mycroft's skin was. It was several moments before his brother opened his eyes and Sherlock felt relief flood through him. Quickly he placed a hand on Mycroft's chest, intending to heal him but paused when he felt movement from behind him. Slowly he turned around.

The scene was one of carnage. Engifted lay in pools of blood, many of them barely alive. For a moment Sherlock was torn. Did he help the others or stay here and protect those he cared about? He took a deep breath and slowly released John and Mycroft, rising to his feet as he did so and using his power to pinpoint those who were most in need. Nightmare was one of the worst wounded and was bleeding from a dozen different injuries that would eventually kill him. Sherlock turned his back, wanting the Engifted to suffer, and focused on the others, moving amongst them as he healed them one by one. Once they were back on their feet each Engifted thanked him quietly and then vanished, no longer needed now Nightmare had been brought low. A little way off the Elite conversed in low tones. Sherlock watched them for a moment, knowing he could join them but not wanting to. Instead he glanced over at John and smiled. He knew what he wanted and it was not the power of healing and death. If he could get away with he would willingly never use his powers again.

Celeste cleared her throat and took a step forward, her wings gleaming brightly with excess power from the fight. "It's over Nightmare. Surrender quietly and we will allow you to live."

Nightmare gave voice to a strangled sounding laugh as he tried and failed to raise himself, falling heavily back against the floor. "No, it will never be over. If I surrender you'll lock me away in one of the forgotten realms to rot for all eternity." The red eyes gleamed brightly when he noticed Sherlock watching him. Time for a bit of fun. "Besides where is the fun in going quietly?" He asked with a vicious grin on his serpentine features.

It was at the same time Nightmare said this that Sherlock felt a jolt of intense pain course through his head. He fell to his knees with a muffled cry, clutching at his forehead. The pain intensified, becoming white hot until he was barely able to see. He knew Nightmare was behind the attack but try as he might to fight it off, the pain just continued to grow. Eventually he was aware of nothing beyond it and a peculiar fog settled across his thoughts as flashes of scenes conjured by Nightmare seared into his mind. None of it was real of course. Mycroft and John were safe behind a shield- not lying torn apart, but Sherlock still felt a wave of despair threatening to engulf him.

The other Elite's intensified their attacks, knowing full well that they did not have much time to defeat Nightmare. Their best chances now while he was distracted by Sherlock. From Zephyr came a blast of hurricane force winds that sent Nightmare crashing back down to the floor. At the same time Phoenix unleashed a wave of fire and sent it curling round Nightmare, tying him firmly down so he was unable to do any more damage. Nightmare let out a roar of frustration and doubled his mental attack on Sherlock, determined to at least do some damage before he was defeated. The only question was- how to do it. An idea came to him and a slow smile spread across Nightmare's features. Lovely. That would do it nicely.

Concentrating hard Nightmare sent out another wave towards Sherlock. Even if the Elite had had any mental defences they would not have saved him. It was kinda pathetic really how easily he managed to overcome him. Now this was where the fun really started. Nightmare could make Sherlock do whatever he wanted and there was nothing the detective could do about this. Oh, he was going to enjoy this.

John felt a jolt of fear run through him as Sherlock slowly turned towards him, his blue eyes utterly devoid of emotion. He swallowed hard and resisted the urge to take a step back. "Sherlock, what are you doing?" He asked, unable to keep the shake from his voice. He did not like the look of this. John glanced over at Mycroft, who was also looking worried. Spreading his ice crystal wings he moved in front of John in an attempt to shield him from whatever was coming. Neither of them were prepared for what happened next.


	11. A Split Second- John

I have heard it said it can take a split second for life to change and everything to go wrong. Even as Sherlock stalks towards me I see the glazed expression in his eyes fade to be replaced by the more familiar blue. He stumbles back with a quiet gasp and clutches at his head. Though I am not sure what happened, from the smirk on Nightmare's face I can assume he has something to do with it. Anger floods through me. Sherlock has been through enough without Nightmare making it worse I go to take a step forward, intending to rush to Sherlock's side but before I can Nightmare rises up with a roar and easily tears apart the bonds holding him to the floor. Instantly fear freezes my mind and I find myself unable to move, my muscles refusing to listen when I instruct them to move. Not good when there is a huge, and not very friendly Engifted rapidly heading in my direction. Unlike most of the Engifted still present, who are still basically human looking if you ignore the wings, Nightmare has transformed into a truely terrifying monster. Darkness swirls around him, covering him on a thick scale like armour and spreading out behind him to form an enormous pair of leathery wings.

Immediately, almost without any sign of making a deduction Sherlock grabs me and drags me backwards away from Nightmare. Razor sharp claws slash at the air where I had been standing inches before. A shudder runs through me at just how close I came to death. I am not used to feeling so helpless and I have to admit that I am not comfortable with the feeling. Normally on cases I can at least keep pace with Sherlock. On this occasion though I am utterly useless and a huge liability. Without Sherlock to protect me I would not stand a chance against Nightmare. It is a little disconcerting to go from being a hero to nothing more than a damsel in distress. Dear God I hope Greg does not hear about this- I will never hear the last of it if he does... My train of thought is abruptly shattered by Sherlock cradling me tightly to his chest, his wings arching over to unfold me in a feathery embrace. It is surprisingly warm, the feathers soft against me bare arms and some of the tension in my muscles begins to fade. Though Sherlock's face is pale there is a familiar spark in the blue eyes.

"Are you alright John?" Sherlock asks, sounding slightly frantic. Reaching down he lightly runs his fingers along my cheek. There is a tenderness in his eyes and I feel my heart skip a beat. Maybe once all of this is over... The thought trails off as I become aware Sherlock is still watching me intently as he waits for an answer. Now is not the time for day-dreaming. First we need to get far away from Nightmare to a place where we will finally be safe. Maybe then life can finally begin to go to how it was.

The wounds in my chest inflicted by Nightmare in order to taunt Sherlock are still surprisingly painful- I would have expected it to at least be fading slightly by now as I grow used to it. Continuous pain is never a good sign. Obviously the wounds must be a lot worse than I originally thought (not a overly comforting thought). I breathe in deeply and let out a cry when a sharp pain shoots through my chest, followed closely by a wave of dizziness that makes spots dance at the edges of my vision. Ouch! What the he'll had that been? My legs begin to shake and if it was not for Sherlock's arms around me I am sure I would have fallen. I look up into blue eyes that are full of concern and a faint glow of panic. Something must be very wrong for Sherlock to look like that. "Sherlock?" I ask, startled by how weak my voice sounds.

In answer Sherlock gently lowers himself to the ground, gently taking me down with him, and lays a hand on my chest, firmly applying pressure. A dull ache spreads through me. Curious to find out the cause I raise my head. It is a decision I instantly regret. Apparently Sherlock was not quite quick enough in pulling me backward away from Nightmare. Three deep gashes oozing blood mark my skin, deep enough that I swear I see a flash of white bone beneath the torn flesh and scarlet blood. My stomach heaves and I swear quietly, my head falling back. Shit, it really is bad. The only thing stopping me going in full on shock is the memory of Bonebreaker and the damage he inflicted on my body. If Sherlock could heal that, he can almost certainly heal this.

For the first time I have known him Sherlock looks scared. "It's going to be okay John. You just have to trust me." He says with a shake in his voice. He swallows hard and begins channelling his power into me. The burning in my chest increases until all I am aware of is a white hot pain that drowns out everything else. At one point I must begin to fight against it because Sherlock leans forward and places a tender kiss on my forehead. "No, dear heart, you need to stay still." He murmurs in a soft voice. His use of a nickname throws me at first. Sherlock has never shown an inclination for such things after all. I do not get much time to dwell on it.

As the wounds in my chest slowly close, turning into raw red scars that will quickly fade, there is a dark laugh from Nightmare. "How touching. How...human. You should be ashamed of yourself Thanatos. Rule one of any confrontation, you do not reveal your weakness to your enemy." He says, sounding amused. This is followed by more sounds of battle. Sherlock does not look in that direction once, all of his attention is focused on me. In all the excitement (and despite my grevious injuries) I can not help but wonder why Mycroft is not here. I got the feeling he at least vaguely cared about my wellbeing.

Seconds later my question is answered in the most horrible of ways. I am just beginning to get the strength to sit up when there is an agonising cry from somewhere very close by. I jump and my head jerks round to find out what has happened. Somebody has just been very badly injured... Oh... the sight that greets my eyes sends a wave of unreality crashing over me. It can't be true, it's just to impossible. Moments later however a shocked cry from Sherlock confirms that what I am seeing is not a figment of my imagination. Still Sherlock does not let me go, continuing to heal me despite what has happened. I can feel tremors running through the fingers on my chest. He is not as calm as he is pretending to be. Personally I am shocked he hasn't dropped everything to rush over to his brother.

The smirk on Nightmare's serpentine features grows wider and he holds up a gore soaked hand for our inspection. Clutched tightly within his claws, still oozing a steady trickle of blood, is Mycroft's heart. Mycroft himself is slumped on the floor in a sad, broken heap, a pool of blood rapidly spreading round him. "Tell me Thanatos, because I am curious as to how your power works, does a person still have to be alive for you to heal them?" He asks, his tone mocking.

Sherlock's entire body begins to shake and his eyes glistening with tears that threaten to fall at any moment. I reach up to stroke his cheek but he flinches away from me. I pull back, a little unsure as to what I should say. Mycroft has often seemed quite cold and aloof to me but to Sherlock he is his older brother, the one who he spent his childhood with. For him,this must be a massive shock. "Sherlock?" I ask hesitantly, afraid of how Sherlock might react. Already there is a hardness to his eyes and a darkness beginning to gather around him. I don't want him to turn into Thanatos again. I am terrified he might not turn back and that I'll lose him. I honestly don't think I would be able to live without him.

Sherlock ignores me completely and stares intently at Nightmare, his blue eyes lined with black once more. "You really shouldn't have done that Nightmare." His deep voice is heavy with the promise of coming violence. Chronos must be able to sense it too because he steps forwards and tries to reason with Sherlock.

"Sherlock? You are not thinking straight right now. Let us deal with this." Chronos says. When Sherlock shows no sign of listening he lets out a heavy sigh and shakes his head. "John needs to be protected. This is no place for a human."

This seems to shake Sherlock out of whatever trance he had fallen into. Swallowing he nods in acknowledgement and carries on with the final stages of healing; smoothing over the scar and reducing the redness until there is no sign I was ever hurt. Nightmare snarls in annoyance, not happy to be ignored. I get the feeling he is used to be being the centre of attention. This is probably a new experience for him. "Do not ignore me Thanatos and answer my question. If Mycroft's heart was still intact could you save him?" The use of past tense is not lost upon me and I realise with a jolt exactly what he intends to do.

"Sherlock, you have to save Mycroft. I know you and there is no way you'll be able to live with yourself if you don't at least try!" To my horror Sherlock shakes his head, looking utterly defeated. "No! You can't give up! I won't let you!" I try to disentangle myself but Sherlock, of course, is much stronger than I will ever be. He looks so sad that I desperately want to kiss him and take away his pain. It hurts how much I am unable to help him.

There is a deep sorrow in his eyes when he meets my gaze. "You don't understand. If I let out that part of me again I don't know if I'll be able to get back. I almost got lost last time and it was terrifying." He is trying very hard to pretend he hasn't noticed Nightmare casually throwing Mycroft's heart from hand to hand as though it was a tennis ball. With each impact there is a quiet squish and a splattering of blood. "I'm terrified that Thanatos would hurt you John," He pauses and lightly places one hand on either side of my face, "and that is something I couldn't forgive myself for. I-I, " he falters and has to take a deep breath before he continues, "I love you."

Until this moment I have never realised how much I have wanted to hear Sherlock say those words. My heart flutters and my throat is suddenly dry. I swallow hard, unable to tear my gaze away from Sherlock. Unlike the brief kiss while we were both in Nightmare's clutches (I honestly thought I had hallucinated the entire event afterwards) this time I am able to see the raw emotion shining from his blue eyes. It is rare to see Sherlock's emotions at all and I can't help but feel slightly smug that the most intense part of his heart belongs to me. Even so I know what Sherlock is giving up to be with me. Pulling him against me I place a gentle kiss on his cheek. "I love you too Sherlock."

I feel a shudder run through Sherlock and for a moment I am afraid it might have all become too much for him. But when he looks up at me there is a spark deep within his eyes. Taking a deep breath he looks up at Chronos who is still watching the two of us intently. "Do whatever you will with Nightmare. I'll stay here and protect John." He says quietly.

Chronos nods once to show he understands and moves over to join the other Elite. Then without any sort of signal every Engifted still present (many ran for it when they saw how strong Nightmare was) unleashes their powers all at once towards Nightmare. The shadowy Engifted let's out a scream, his body disintegrating back into a more normal form; his shadows pooling on the floor where they lay limp and lifeless. I see Celeste stepping up, her entire body glowing...

Five minutes later Sherlock is gently shaking me awake. With a groan I open my eyes to find Nightmare gone and the warehouse littered with fallen Engifted. "What happened?" I ask, trying to sit up. My head swims unpleasantly and I clutch onto Sherlock. "All I remember is a bright light."

"Celeste destroyed Nightmare. He's gone. Apparently she didn't need my help to defeat him." Sherlock says with a faraway look in his eyes. Absentmindedly he runs his hand across my chest where the wound had been and my skin principles in response. I swallow hard, feeling something inside me stir in response. Sherlock sighs heavily and looks down at me. "It's all over. You're safe."

"And Mycroft?" I ask, even though I am dreading hearing the answer. Sherlock doesn't reply but I can tell from the sorrow in his eyes that his brother is gone. I reach up and lightly touch his face. "I'm so sorry Sherlock..." A sudden thought comes to me and I bury my head in my hands with a groan. "Oh God what the hell are we going to tell Greg?" Sherlock gives me a confused look. Apparently he never noticed the spark present between Mycroft and Greg. I did, and I can only hope they at least shared something together. Maybe it'll make Mycroft's death a little easier to come to terms with.

Sherlock never gets a chance to reply because even as he is opening his mouth to speak he is interrupted by Chronos. "You know between Celeste and myself we could bring your brother back. It would be the least we could do for you getting sucked into this fight in the first place. You may be an Elite but at least we had a few decades to get used to it before we had to deploy our powers." I half expect Sherlock to take the offer and am therefore surprised when he shakes his head. Chronos looks taken aback as well. "There must be something you desire Mr Holmes. Anything you want you can have." He pauses, his golden eyes glowing brightly for a second, "consider it compensation for what you have been through."

Sherlock looks down at me with a thoughtful expression on his face. "Anything at all?" He asks curiously. When Chronos nods he smiles and reaches down to take my hand in his. "Then what I want is simple. Take away Thanatos...leave the healing ability that makes me an Engifted...leave the wings. Just get rid of Thanatos so there is no chance I will ever hurt John." He says all his quickly, his eyes never leaving mine the whole time. "And give Mycroft a decent burial. Something fitting for..." His voice breaks but Chronos gives him a nod of understanding and a small smile.

I try to have a say but Sherlock shakes his head. I swallow down my words. He is giving up so much for me and I have nothing much to give him in return. I have to admit I was half expecting Chronos to say the request was impossible. Instead the Elite smiles and says, "That should be easy enough to do." Celeste walks over to join us. She looks sad as she leans down to place a gentle kiss on Sherlock's forehead. "When you wake up tomorrow Thanatos will be gone and put into another Engifted more prepares for the burden it entails. Thank you for your help Sherlock." She begins to walk away but pauses and glances back over her shoulder. "I hope the two of you have a long and happy life together." Then she walks away, joining the other Elite's who are talking to the Engifted who stayed to help. As shocking as it may seem Moriarty was one of those to struck around and he smiles when he notices me looking at him. I return it. Despite everything he has done over the years he did help Sherlock in the end.

I am shaken from my train of thought by Sherlock helping me to my feet and wrapping an arm around my shoulders. With a sigh I rest my head against him. "Ready to go home?" He asks, his voice tinged with an underlying sadness. It will be a long time before either of us forget this horrific incident. Though Nightmare is destroyed he will live on in our darkest dreams for a long while.

"I'm ready." I reply. Maybe finally life can begin to go back to normal. I glance up at Sherlock and feel a smile spread across my face. Though not too normal. There is silence for a moment. Then Sherlock wraps his wings around the two of us and steps forward into darkness.

Even before Sherlock and John returned Lestrade knew something had gone horribly wrong. He had been pacing the living room of Baker Street with no idea why Nightmare had left him behind when he had felt it. A tearing pain in his chest that had sent him to his knees with a cry. Doubled over with agony it was all he could to keep breathing, each breath seemingly more difficult than the last. It was a huge relief when it suddenly disappeared as abruptly as it had struck. It was only later he discovered that Engifted develop a powerful bond with those they choose to love. For now though he sat in John's usual chair and waited for news. Not knowing or suspecting his heart was going to be torn apart for a second time.


	12. Home- John

I breath a sigh of relief when the familiar settings of 221B materialise around us. It's feels great to finally be home. For a long moment Sherlock and I remain where we are, neither of us willing to let go of the other. The moment is spoilt however when Greg leaps up from my armchair with a cry that is two parts joy to one part shock and hurries towards us. "Thank God you're ok. What happened?" He slows as he gets closer and stares at me. I glance down. My shirt is ripped and covered in an alarming amount of blood. It looks pretty bad and Lestrade's reaction is understandable. "You're covered in blood!" He gasps, "Are you alright?"

I can't quite meet his eye. Sooner or later he is going to notice that Mycroft isn't with us. "I'm fine. Sherlock healed me."

He looks more closely, obviously noticing Sherlock's protective arm around my shoulder, and his eyebrows rise slightly. He grins. "About bloody time the two of you got together. Mrs Hudson and I have been taking bets on how long it would take." He pauses, tipping his head to one side question my. "Where's Mycroft? Did Nightmare take him as well?"

This was the moment I had been dreading. Beside me Sherlock begins to shake and I know that I won't be receiving any help from that quarter. It is up to me to break the bad news to Greg. I swallow hard, knowing full well what it is going to do to him. "I'm so sorry Greg..." Tears fill his eyes and drip down his cheeks.

"I know." He says in a voice barely above a whisper. "I felt it." In a daze he lightly places a hand against his chest in the exact same spot Mycroft had had his heart torn out. He closes his eyes and let's out a sigh. "At least we got to spend one night together." He murmurs to himself.

Sherlock looks startled by this and goes to say something. I place a finger over his lips and shake my head. "Not now, give him time to grieve and process the news first." I tell him before turning my attention back to Greg. "You can stay here tonight if you want." (Much as it pains me to say it my new relationship with Sherlock can wait). Greg is my friend and he is hurting. Offering him a shoulder to cry on is the least I can do. Still I would be lying if I didn't say I was relieved when he refused my offer by saying he would rather be alone right now.

Sherlock does his best to be comforting but it falls a little flat. Not that Greg really notices. With only the most cursory of goodbyes he leaves to return home. I make a mental note to check on him tomorrow...I glance at the clock and then at the window. Apparently it is 11 in the morning. Over the last couple of days and after everything that has happened I have completely lost track of the time. God only knows how long the fight against Nightmare actually lasted. All I can do now is be thankful the nightmare is over.

Taking a deep breath to steady myself I turn my attention to Sherlock, who still hasn't let go of me since we arrived back. Despite the black wings tucked tightly against his back he looks incredibly human and fragile right at this moment. "I'm sorry John." He says, his voice soft. "For everything. I never meant for you to get hurt." Gently he rests his forehead on mine and gazes deep into my eyes. "At least without Thanatos I'll just be like any other Engifted. I'll never be able to hurt you."

My heart goes out to him. "You've given up so much for me Sherlock."

Sherlock smiles a little sadly. "It was worth it dear heart to spend a life-time with you." A spark of desire burns in his eyes and he takes my hand, laying it against his chest. Beneath his warm skin I feel his heart beating. "I love you." His voice has a rough edge to it and the hand on my shoulder creeps downwards, stroking down the length of my spine and down towards the waistband of my trousers. A shudder runs through me and a quiet gasp escapes from between my lips. "You have no idea how long I've waited to feel your bare skin against mine." He says, his deep voice breathy.

I lean into him and fumble at the buttons of his shirt. The top one refuses to open and I let out a small snarl of frustration. I pull hard until the button breaks in half with a snap and then ease Sherlock's shirt from his shoulders. The material catches on his folded wings and I reach round to untangle it. As I do my fingers brush the edge of one wings, ruffling the delicate feathers. The effect the touch has on Sherlock is startling and I find myself staring at my hands in disbelief that I could have caused him to feel anything so intense. A small grin spreads across my face. Apparently the wings of an Engifted are incredibly sensitive...hmmm I could have some fun with this.

Sherlock lets out a low moan and closes his eyes, tilting his head upwards in ecstasy. His hands on my body go still and his wings tremble violently. "Sherlock?" I murmur quietly, "you alright?" He lets out a groan but otherwise doesn't reply. Who knew I could have such an affect on him? Experimentally I slide my hands down his back and carefully touch my fingertips to where his wings fuse into his skin. The feathers are soft as silk and warm to the touch. Though they may be black I feel no fear. After everything we have been through together I know with certainty that Sherlock would never hurt me.

In response to my touch a shudder runs through Sherlock and he buries his head in my shoulder, muffling a low sound of pleasure. With a gentle rustling sound Sherlock's wings unfurl and curl around the two of us until we are lost in our own little world. This feels so right, like we are two puzzle pieces who fit perfectly against one another... all thoughts are then driven from my head when Sherlock crushes his lips against mine, the intensity of his desire and passion taking my breath away. A feeling of warmth floods through me, coming from Sherlock who is glowing. Though unlike the last time the glow is golden not black and I stare at it for a moment. His wish is already coming true. Though I still feel a little sad he would change himself for me I am honestly glad to see the back of Thanatos. That side of Sherlock was terrifying.

I feel my knees go weak and would have fallen if it wasn't for Sherlock's arms around me. Sherlock breaks off the kiss and looks down at me, his face flushed and his eyes gleaming. "Maybe we should move this to the bedroom before it escalates." He murmurs, leaning down to lightly nuzzle the side of my neck. "The living room floor won't be the most comfortable of places."

My heart skips a beat and I swallow hard. Even having to wait a few more seconds is hard. I want Sherlock's bare skin against mine, I want to feel him inside me. I take a breath and somehow manage to control myself. "Your bedroom is closer." I reply, biting my lip as a wave of sensation floods through me.

As though he can read my thoughts (likely because he is after all to tell a lot about a person just by looking at them) a slow, almost predatory grin spreads across his face. In one easy movement he lifts me off the ground, his wings still wrapped around me and carries me through the flat. When he momentarily pauses to push open his bedroom door I rest my head on his shoulder and breathe in his warm, comforting smell. With Sherlock by my side I have nothing to fear. When I am with him I am home.


End file.
